The next day went by quickly. The Newsies finished the hall and then began to finish planning out the evening. But soon the grand day was upon them and the hall was becoming crowded with boys and girls alike. Bright Eyes refused to wear the blue dress that Sarah pressed her to wear and instead, wore her best pair of pants and nicest shirt and cap. "Please Bright Eyes! Just this once! You would make all the boys stare if they saw you like this!" Bright Eyes rolled her eyes as she pulled on her shirt. "Please Sarah! Dats exactly what I don't wanna do! I'm their friend, one of da guys. If I put on dat dress, I wouldn't be dat. I would be someone who is to be pampered an' all dat goily stuff. I won't do dat Sarah an' dats final!"
And it was final. Bright Eyes stormed out of the dressing room, leaving an exasperated Sarah sitting with the blue dress in her lap. Then Sarah pulled her dress out of the bag she had brought. It was the one she had worn at the first rally, the white frilly one, with the straw hat. She had curled her hair to go with the outfit, hoping for some reason, that Jack would notice. 'But why would he notice me? He doesn't care about me! Its so hard to hate him though, because, I still love him.' Sarah thought with a sigh. Then she began to undress so she could put on the frilly contraption.
When the Newsies arrived at Irving Hall, they were surprised and ecstatic at finding almost 3\4's of the place full. They quickly ducked inside and began making their way to their reserved seats in the front row. As she made her way down the aisle, Bright Eyes heard a low whistle behind her. She turned and saw Oscar Delancy in one of the seats towards the back. The boy winked at her and she whirled back around and began to plow her way towards the seats. She ran straight into Skittery who in turn tripped, almost falling down amongst the mob, had it not been for Bright Eyes' hands. "Geez Bright! Yer in a hurry! We'll get dere in plenty of time! Whassa matta? Ya look like ya've seen a ghost!" Bright Eyes gulped nervously as she followed Skittery. "I tink I did."
When she reached her seat, she slumped down into it and put her head in her hands. 'What am I doin'? Dis is wrong! I let Pulitzer in here, an' da Delancy's too! Dey'll moida us! I gotta do sometin'! I cain't though. If I do, I get pummeled by good old Papa. But if I don't, me friends get hoit. Oh God, please help me!' She thought, pressing her hands against her head. "Excitin' ain't it Bright?" Racetrack's sudden excited voice behind Bright Eyes, made her jump suddenly, surprising Racetrack. "Hey whassa matta wit' ya? Yer as jumpy as a polecat!" The boy protested, looking into her face, concern spreading over his features.
Bright Eyes fidgeted with her hair and twisted it around her finger. "It ain't anytin' Race. Don't worry 'bout me." Racetrack still looked at her with anxiety despite her reassurances. "I do worry 'bout ya Bright. More dan you know." He muttered under his breath as the curtains of the stage opened and Medda stepped out with Jack, David and Spot. Yells echoed throughout the auditorium as the commemoration speeches and debates began. Bright Eyes forgot her troubles for a moment as she watched her friends with pride and showed it with her cheers adjoining with her fellow Newsies.
She had almost completely forgotten her troubles by the time Medda began to sing at the end of the rally, but they arose again when she saw Morris Delancy sneaking into the back wing where the backstage door was located. Bright Eyes shrunk into her seat and instead of watching Medda, watched the rustling velvety red curtains behind her. Bright Eyes' ears then picked up a slight whistle from behind the curtains, during the slow part of "High Times, Hard Times" when the auditorium was finally silent for a few moments. She slunk down further into her seat and moaned. Racetrack glanced at her with concern. "Are you all right?" Bright Eyes shot up from her seat and began to speak to Racetrack in short harsh whispers. "We've gotta get everyone outta here now! Sometin's gonna happen and,"
All of a sudden, without warning, the curtains burst open, causing Medda to stop singing abruptly and turn around in surprise. All eyes were on the stage, which was now overflowing with boys and men, each beginning to attack the visitors. Fights began to ensue and the boys were fighting with all their might and trying to get the girls and young children out without injury. Racetrack grabbed Bright Eyes hand and attempted to drag her toward an exit. "No Race! I gotta stay an' help!" Racetrack pulled her arm insistently. "No way! You'd get hoit fer sua!"
Bright Eyes yanked her arm out of Racetrack's grasp and stood, gasping. "I gotta stay! I'm not a sissy goil now! I'm one of ya, an' I'm not gonna let us go down widout a fight!" With that Bright Eyes was lost to Racetrack's vision as she slipped through the crowd. Bright Eyes attacked the first opposition she saw, who happened to be a tall blonde headed boy who was fighting with a boy named Dusty who she had seen around the Bronx. She dashed into the fight and her fist flew into the blonde boy's stomach. When he collapsed, she went for another boy and another, practically blind with the punching and kicking of this war.
Then in a corner, she saw David trying to defend himself against two of Oscar Delancy's friends. They had him trapped and were beating him against the wall, punching his face, stomach, and just about everywhere else. The boy was on the brink of unconsciousness when he saw a girl plow through the hazy mist, accompanied by a boy who looked like Spot and another boy he thought was Mush. The girl and the two boys quickly finished the job that David had been too weak to do as he lay slumped against the wall, bruises forming upon his face. Then Bright Eyes stooped over him and patted his back as the boy David figured was Spot, kept punching a boy who was already on the ground, that is until Mush stopped him.
"Heya Davey. Ya okay? Did dey hoit ya real bad? Not yer mouth I hope?" Bright Eyes questioned, concerned. David laughed scornfully. "Yeah, thats the only thing I'm good for around here. My mouth! I can't fight! I can't do anything useful to you! I might as well leave!" Bright Eyes watched David during his temper tantrum with eyebrows raised until he finished. " Listen Davey, if ya cain't fight, obseaive! Dere are tons of boys out dere fightin' dere life away! Take notes an' do all dat studyin' stuff ya do in dat school! Now get to it!" Then the girl patted him on the back and took off, clobbering a boy in the head as she swept by.
David shook his head and jumped up. "Hey kid! Ya wit' dis crowd?" David whirled around to face the bulky boy standing in front of him. "I don't know. Which side are you on?" The boy was taken aback and when he answered David his forehead was furrowed into many confused lines. "Um, I'm on Osca's side." David smiled. "Well then I guess I'm on the other side!" With that, David smacked the boy's stomach and watched him groan and crumple to the floor in amazement. "Hey come on Mout'! We gots woik ta do!" Spot yelled as he landed a black eye on another unfortunate individual. David grinned and took off into the fray.
Meanwhile, Bright Eyes was holding her own against the hoodlums. The Newsies were getting a fierce pounding, but they were holding their own against the men and boys commissioned by Pulitzer. "Bright Eyes! Bright Eyes help!!" Her name was shouted above the clamor given off by the fighters. Bright Eyes turned around and attempted to find the speaker. She found him in the arms of a boy from Brooklyn, Crusher, who wasn't called that for nothing. He was one of the best fighters in Brooklyn and he was about to punch the living daylights out of the boy. The boy was Les. "Hey Crusher stop it! Don't!"
Bright Eyes pushed her way through the crowd just as Crusher pounded Les senseless. The boy's small body slid to the floor in a crumpled heap. Bright Eyes sprang upon Crusher, who taken by surprise, held his hands above his face and grabbed her hands as they reached him. "Bright Eyes?" Bright Eyes struggled against the strong arms holding her fast to keep her from tearing him apart. "Yeah! Why'd ya do dat fer? Let me go!" Crusher grabbed hold of Bright Eyes, slung her over his shoulder and made his way toward an exit. Bright Eyes kicked and pounded but was unable to hit him anywhere that would enable her to get free.
He surprised the girl by running out of the building completely and slinging her to the ground in the alley nearest to the theater. "Pulitzer told all of us dat if we saw ya's, we would make sua ya weren't in da fightin'. Ta keep ya safe an' seal yer bargain. But I gots ta do dis ta keep ya from running off." Bright Eyes looked into Crusher's face uncomprehendingly as he took her shoulders and slammed her into the wall. She blacked out almost instantly, and Crusher propped her body up against the wall, then hurried back into Irving Hall.
About three hours later, Bright Eyes woke up with a pounding headache. She felt the large bump on the back of her head with a slight groan and stood up. She looked around her and started. The place was deserted. The hall doors were wide open, and trash was everywhere. She dashed in through the doors and stood stock still. Inside the doorway and the foyer, was littered with the unconscious bodies of boys. After recovering from the initial shock of it all, Bright Eyes began to pick her way through them, looking for just one familiar face. She found one. Just inside the doorway into the main body of the hall, lay Kid Blink, stomach side down, unmoving.
She dashed over to him and flipped him over. She stared down into his face. His face was purple with bruises, his lip cut in two different places, and his eyes. The flap of the brown eye patch always worn and kept down by Blink was open. Across the lid of the swollen eye, was a jagged scar stretching across its length. Bright Eyes didn't dare see what was under the swollen lid, but swallowed and flipped the patch downward again. She began to shake her friend till he finally came to.
He grabbed his head as he sat up quickly and groaned. "Oh my head! Bright, where'd ya go? We looked fer ya everywhea!" Bright Eyes helped the boy sit up and supported his back. "We? Who else was wit' ya Blink?" Blink rubbed his face as he thought, feeling the bruises. "Me an' Spot. He couldn't find ya an' he was worried 'bout ya. He tried ta get away from 'em by climbin' da balcony, but I blacked out 'fore I could see if he'd made it or not."
Bright Eyes jumped up and began to scan the floor under the balcony nearest to Blink. As she did so, Blink managed to get to his feet and began to wander the halls shaking boys and trying to wake them up. At length, Bright Eyes finally saw the small figure of the Brooklyn leader lying under the pillar of the balcony near where she had found Blink. She ran to him and knelt down. His face was as still as death, his right hand still clutched tightly his beloved cane. The crown of his head still covered by his hat, was covered in blood. Bright Eyes slowly eased the cap off of his head and looked beneath. Under the cap, the sandy brown hair was drenched in blood. Bright Eyes carefully ran her fingers through it, attempting to find the wound. It was located near the back of the top of his head. She whipped off her cap and lay Spot's cap on top of it. Then she gently eased his head on top of the makeshift pillow. "Blink! I need ya ta get a docta! We need one bad!"
That was the start of the long night, which evolved into early morning. The doctor came and Spot, along with several other boys were taken to the hospital for examination and treatment. Among them were several of her friends, Jack, Mush, Skittery, Snipeshooter, David and Racetrack. Racetrack almost wasn't found, his body having been hidden behind the curtain. It was only by a shrill screech from Medda that they found him. When Bright Eyes and the doctor rushed backstage, Medda was cradling his head in her lap as she attempted to stop the bleeding from a jagged cut in his arm. The weapon: a steel pipe ripped off of one of the fallen chandeliers. After this patient was taken away, Bright Eyes, having collapsed from exhaustion, was taken to Medda's quarters and there spent the rest of the day sleeping, and dreaming terrible dreams.
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"Mmmmm. Medda? Race? Spot?" Bright Eyes sat up in the strange bed, wondering where she was and what had happened. She had hoped that the whole thing with the rally, had been a dream. The bump on her head convinced her of the truth. Bright Eyes limped out of bed and out of the room in order to find her friend. She found Medda in the midst of the hall, fingering a piece of paneling ripped off the balcony during the pandemonium. "Are ya okay Medda? If ya want yer bed back, ya can have it." Medda turned to face Bright Eyes slowly and shrugged. "No I don't think so. I don't need it, you can have it for now dearie."
Bright Eyes put her arm around the actress slowly as she continued to finger the wood. "How am I going to pay for all of this? I don't have this kind of money. I have to pay half because I half own the place, what am I going to tell them? Oh if only Francis," Medda stopped abruptly as soon as she uttered the final word and held her hand to her mouth. Bright Eyes looked at the woman with a mix of alarm and concern. "Who, who's Francis, Medda?" The woman stared into space for a moment, then turned and looked at the girl uneasily. "Bright Eyes, do you remember when I told you once that I loved someone, but tried not too?" Bright Eyes answered with a slow understanding nod. "Well, Francis, he was the one I loved. His name was," Here Medda stopped as if summoning up the courage to finish what she had begun. "Francis Sullivan."
Bright Eyes started, recognizing the familiar name. "Not Jack, my dear. His father. His father was Francis Patrick Sullivan. I couldn't love him, because, he was married already, to a lovely girl named Carra. I had known Francis since we were children. But he was always on the move. And then he married Carra." Medda sighed, distinctly. "They had three children, Francis, or Jack as he calls himself, Andrew, and Liam. The two youngest were twins. They died two months short of their eighth birthday. It, destroyed Francis and he started to drink. He killed Carra in a drunken rage. He ran to me pleading for help. After he told me what he had done, I threw him out, and called the police. He was charged with manslaughter in the first degree and sentenced to prison for life."
"So, does Jack remember any of this?" Bright Eyes asked hesitantly. Medda laughed. "Of course. He lived with me for a few months afterwards. He was 12 when he left to join the Newsies. The last I heard from him was that he was having a wonderful time, had lots of friends, and was a regular leader among them. He didn't abandon me though. He came and visited time and time again. He couldn't stay away from this place for very long. Then the strike came, and as scholars say, the rest is history. But please don't tell anyone, and don't tell Jack that I told you. Granted, he can trust you, but still, for me." Bright Eyes nodded and Medda sighed with relief. "Well, how is the one you love?" Bright Eyes looked away, cheeks burning scarlet. "I was gonna see him an' da uddas teday, if dey let me." Medda smiled and patted her back. "Well don't let me keep you waiting! Go, go!" Medda gave the girl a little push, she in turn smiled at the woman and trotted out of the theater at a fast pace.
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Bright Eyes paused on the steps of the St. John's Hospital in Manhattan. She wasn't sure whether to proceed or run. She decided on the former and made her way up the stairs and into the lobby of the hospital itself. She gulped as she stood awkwardly in the clean, whitewashed lobby. A nurse at the front desk looked up as Bright Eyes walked in, and looked her over. "Excuse me? Miss?" Bright Eyes jumped and turned to run, fearing that she was in trouble, but when she saw the young smiling face behind the desk she calmed down and stepped over to the girl. "Yeah, I was um, wonderin' if'n ya had some info on da boys brought hea last night?"
The nurse smiled pleasantly. "Oh yes, of course. I guessed that they were whom you came to see. Only three can have visitors though. The others need rest." With that the nurse picked up a clipboard and motioned to Bright Eyes who followed her down a long white hall. "Um, hopin' ya don't mind if'n I ask, but um, who can be seen?" The nurse looked down at her clipboard and scanned the list.
"The boys we took in could not tell us their names at the time, but we obtained information from one of the boy's parents. His name was David Jacobs. The other two boys only woke up this morning. One's name was Jack Kelly, the other a boy who called himself Racetrack. Unusual to say the least." Bright Eyes laughed at the girl's misunderstanding of their names. "Naw! Dat ain't his real name! His real name is Anthony, but don't tell no one I told ya dat. He'd get mad if someone started callin' 'im Anthony again!" The nurse laughed as she realized her mistake and turned into another long corridor.
Then she stopped outside a door with a glass window. Bright Eyes peeked in expectantly. She saw rows and rows of beds filled with sick people. The nurse suddenly tapped her on the shoulder. "I was wondering if you could tell me the names of some of the other boys. You seem to know them pretty well." Bright Eyes nodded and the nurse opened the door with a smile. The rest of the visit was spent visiting and identifying the Newsies that were brought in. Though she could not identify all of them, she could identify most of them. After that business was taken care of though, Bright Eyes insisted that she see Jack, David and Racetrack. When she went to David's door and peeked in the window, she saw his family gathered around his bed, watching him sleep.
Bright Eyes decided that David was in good hands for the time being and moved on. She glanced at the slip of paper with Jack and Racetrack's room numbers on it. Jack and Racetrack were right next door. "How convenient." She muttered. She decided to see Jack first. After peeking in and seeing that he was awake and was shuffling through a paper, she knocked. "Come in if ya gotta. I warn ya though, I don't tink its time fer anotha shot jest yet!" Bright Eyes smothered her giggles with her hand, tried her best to put on a serious expression and waltzed through the door.
"Now Mista Kelly, time for some entatainment shots!" Bright Eyes said in a queer voice. Jack looked up startled, then laughed when he saw his friend taking bows in the center of the room to an imaginary audience. "Please, please hold your applause! How ya doin' Cowboy?" Bright Eyes questioned as she plopped herself on the bed beside him. "Well, I'm doin' alright now I guess. Got me leg cut open an' a few bruises. Docs say dat I might be able ta be on my feet in a couple of days."
Bright Eyes grinned, the smile spreading to all corners of her face. "Great Cowboy! Ya keep gettin' betta now an' we'll have ya home in no time!" Jack in turn smiled, then yawned hugely. "Ya tired Jackey boy? If dats so, I'll leave. I got anotha patient ta visit anyway." Jack yawned again. "Yeah Bright. If ya don't mind. Dat docta gave some of dem sleepin' pills. I tink dat dere takin' effect." Bright Eyes kissed Jack on the forehead and tiptoed slowly out of the room as she watched him pull the covers up to his neck and roll over.
She closed the door silently and then headed to the room next to his on the right. She silently peeked through the glass window on the door. The bed was empty, the sheets twisted over and around each other. Concerned, Bright Eyes opened the door and walked in. "Race? Racetrack?" A grunt sounded from the right side of the room. Bright Eyes looked over and groaned. Racetrack was standing up, bandages and all, dressed in his regular clothes except for his shirt, which he was struggling to get on. His head shot up as Bright Eyes called his name, but dropped again and began concentrating on putting his shirt on without hurting his arm. "Hey Bright. I know what yer gonna say, but I ain't gonna sit in dat hospital bed all day an' night! I won't do it! An' in dese duds! Gee whiz! I'd ratha wea stuff wit' fleas in 'em!"
"Come on Race. Can't you follow the rules fer once? Yer hoit! Ya should be restin'! Ya split yer arm wide open a couple hours ago! Da doc said dat ya could see da bone! Ya need ta rest!" Bright Eyes protested as she proceeded to unbutton his shirt that he had just buttoned up. He threw his arms up in disgust, wincing as his sore arm lifted. "But Brighty, I don't wanna! Da last time I came ta one of dese here hospitals, I, was scared! I hate dis place!" Bright Eyes slowly and gently eased the shirt sleeve off of the boy's hurt arm as she spoke quietly. "Da last time? When was dat?" Racetrack groaned slightly as the shirt came off again. "When me pop was on a rampage. Trashed up everybody. Gotta scar unda me eyebrow. Smashed a beer bottle 'gainst it, an' it broke. Gotta piece of, OW! Careful Bright! Gotta piece of glass stuck in it. Had ta git stitches."
Bright Eyes took the bloodied shirt, folded it and laid on the chair and began to help Racetrack back into the bed. "I ain't gonna make ya wea dat hospital garb. Its too uncomfortable, I can tell. An' if da nurse comes in, cova up." Racetrack settled into the bed with a sigh and pulled up the sheets. "Hey Bright danks fer bein' around. I missed ya an' da guys." Racetrack said, falteringly. Bright Eyes smiled softly and sat on the edge of the bed. "I missed ya too Race. I'm sorry fer all dis."
Racetrack frowned. "Whaddya mean yer sorry? It weren't yer fault!" Bright Eyes glanced away and played with the covers. "I guess, well I'm jest sorry dats all." Seeing the bewilderment in Racetrack's drowsy eyes, Bright Eyes smiled and smoothed down a sweaty tuft of hair. "Jest git some rest Race. 'Kay? Get betta fer me." Racetrack smiled dozily. "I promise ta get betta fer yer sake Brighty. But now, time ta sleep." He murmured with a yawn. Bright Eyes smiled and slowly walked out of the room and shut the door quietly.
That night Bright Eyes dreamed as she never had before. She dreamed about her life. From her earliest memories to the most recent. She dreamed of the mother she had barely known, and of her abusive drunkard father. She dreamed of her little sister Angela, who was killed by an oncoming carriage when she skipped across the street to meet her.
She dreamt of the beatings she and her family would receive instead of greetings whenever her father came home drunk. Just when she thought that it would never end, she dreamt of her first visit to Brooklyn, and her meeting with the cocky boy with a black cane selling papers outside the orphanage where she had temporarily taken refuge.
She remembered the first words spoken between the two of them. "Boy? Hello. I was wondering if you could recommend a place for me to stay." The boy's face had crumpled with a slight frown. "Don't know of one dat would take little goils, nope. Why? Don't ya like da orphanage?" Her small face had wrinkled with disgust as the boy looked at her with amusement. "No indeed! Its smelly and da food is disgusting! An' some of da matrons is really nasty!" After a moments pause, she had glanced at the papers by the boy's heels curiously. "Is that hard ta do? To sell papers?" The boy grinned. "Not in da least! Ya jest improve da headline. Take dis one fer example. 'Biting ants found on Liberty Island.' We change dat to, 'Crazed Individuals bite sight seers at Liberty Island.' Ya see? Nothin' to it!"
Bright Eyes had smiled and laughed whimsically. "I'd like to sell papers I think. I need a place to stay and somthing to eat. Thats my trouble." The boy grinned coyly. "Ya couldn't have run inta a more poifect person ta find all dat stuff. Me names Conlon. Spot Conlon at yer service. An' da Lodgin' House could put ya up fer a time, till ya find a betta place ta stay if ya want." Her face lit up as the boy bowed charmingly and offered his arm which she took gladly. Then they skipped down the street seeing how fast they could go before they fell down. As they did so, Spot showed her his numerous treasures causing her to praise them and him, creating a blush of pride on the boy's cheeks.
She hadn't left any time soon, but became one of the boys. She very soon learned to play poker from a boy named Spades and became Spot's rival in the game soon after. Bright Eyes remembered coming home to the Lodging House and each of the boys there would tell their stories of that afternoon. No matter how cold it got, it seemed like the Lodging House was always warm and cozy. She remembered in the nighttime, she and the other boys would occasionally practically bring the house down with their dancing. An Irish boy named Arthur, but everyone christened Fiddles, had brought his fiddle that his father had brought from Ireland to the Lodging House as his only possession. But with the fiddle, came the songs he had memorized over time.
Songs such as Scarce O'Tatties, Roscarbury, Ballinasloe and Muenster Cloak rang throughout the house accompanying the sounds of attempts at Irish dance that Fiddles tried to teach them until late hours of the night. When all the boys unanimously decided that bed was the place to be, Fiddles would play soft, slow songs that lulled her to sleep each night. The songs echoed through her sleepy head as she dreamed of Fiddles, a lone black shadow sitting on his stool in front of the fire's glow, easing the bow gently across the strings, playing to draw Sleep's kiss across each of the boys. But every night before Fiddles retired, he would play his special song for Bright Eyes in his whimsical Irish tones, 'White, Orange, and Green.' The song now echoed through the girl's mind as she slept peacefully.
In the Boulgoughty Mountains so far, far away,
I'll tell you a story that happened one day,
About a young girl and her age was sixteen,
And she carried a banner, white, orange, and green.
And the young English soldier was passing the way,
Saw the young girl with her banner so gay,
He laughed and he choked and got off his machine,
Returning to capture white, orange, and green.
'Oh ya can't have my banner,' the young girl replied,
'Tis yer blood and mine on the Boulgoughty's line,
I am a rebel and thats nothing new,
but I'd lay down my life for white, orange and green.'
The young English soldier turned white as the snow,
Got on his machine and away he did go,
For there's no use in fightin' a girl of sixteen,
Who would die for a banner white, orange, and green.
All of a sudden, Bright Eyes awoke with a start, the lyrics still sounding even though she was now awake. She glanced around the room to find the singer, but to no avail. Then she ran to a window near her bed and looked down in the streets. There stood a boy, singing the song with all his might as he held out his cap for coins. Bright Eyes heaved a sigh of relief, pulled up her suspenders and jumped the Lodging House stairs two at a time.
As she stepped out the door, she rushed to the singing boy and thrust a few coins in his hat. He smiled at her and bowed with a flourish. "Thank ya kindly me lady! Been needin' that extra boost! But aren't ya no better an' me? Shouldn't ya be savin' it now?" Bright Eyes patted the boy on the back. "Nope, don't need it. Ya need it more. Besides, it was wonderful." The boy blushed happily and Bright Eyes picked her way through the crowds of people to the hospital. She was early, and while she waited, smoked a cigarette with impatience. The night's recurring dreams about Spot, made her long for him and she wanted to find out his condition.
Finally at 9:00, visiting hours began. She ran through the door at a fast pace and rushed to the front desk before the other visitors could even stand up. "Hey lady? Is dat kid wit' da head injury any betta? 'Cause I need ta see 'im!" The nurse looked up then looked back down at her paper. "Head injury eh. Boy, sandy hair, about 16 or 17 years of age?" Bright Eyes' sighed with relief. "Yeah dats Spot. Can I see 'im?" The lady smiled and consulted her paper again. "Yes, but not for too long. He wasn't hurt terribly but he does need rest." Bright Eyes grinned her thanks as the lady told her the room number, and she dashed down the halls, her shoes squeaking on the tile floor as she ran.
She skidded to a stop outside her friends room and knocked. "Yeah whaddya want?" An angry sounding voice resounded within. Bright Eyes opened the door cautiously and looked around the corner before she spoke. "Easy Spot. Came ta see ya an' dis is da danks I get. Huh, might as well go right back home an' sell papes." Then she made a motion to close the door, until a cry came from Spot. "No don't go Bright! I'm sorry. I tought you were dat nurse come ta give me more meducine or whateva dat stuff is. Whateva it is its horrible!"
Bright Eyes walked over to her friends bed and sat in the chair next to it. "How are ya Spot?" Spot shrugged. "Been betta. How's da udda boys?" "Oh, deys healin' up fine. Mush, Davey, Skittery, an' Snipeshoota got out da udda day. An' Race an' Jack is gonna get out teday. Along wit' some of da udda boys." Spot relaxed visibly upon hearing his friends conditions. "Well dats good. One ting 'bout us Newsies is we's fightas! No paper nor anyone else can take dat away from us Bright, neva!" Spot said as he pounded the bed covers. "How's yer head?" Bright Eyes questioned, to which Spot rolled his eyes and pointed to the large bandages wrapped around his head like a turban. "I'd be betta if dey'd get dis fly net off me! Geez! Don't dey see dat stuff dat weighs yer head back onta da pilla is gonna hoit ya even more? Guess not."
Then Spot pretended that his head was weighed down immensely by the bandages and plopped down on the pillow with a resounding thump. Bright Eyes laughed, and Spot smiled a little before he winced in pain. "I jest wanna git outta here. I don't like bein' left behind everyone else. I hate dat. When can I got home Bright? I wanna go home ta Brooklyn an' sell da papes." Spot said stubbornly.
"I dunno Spot. Soon though I tink. Da nurse said so." Then a knock was heard on the door and it opened to reveal the doctor waiting expectantly. Bright Eyes stood up as Spot glared at the man icily. "I guess dat I had betta go." Spot grabbed her hand insistently. "I don't want ya ta go! He tinks dat I'm some kinda toy da way he sticks needles an' stuff in me!"
Bright Eyes gently pulled her arm out of the Brooklyn leader's grasp. "Hey Spot, I'll be back sooner dan ya realize. An' you'll be out soon too. Just keep yer temper down, an' don't give da docta any trouble ya hea?" Spot rolled his eyes but stretched out his arm to the doctor reluctantly and waited for the shot. The doctor stopped Bright Eyes as she walked by and whispered, "Thank you very much." Bright Eyes smiled and patted the doctors hand. " Jest gotta know how ta handle him doc." "Hey could we get dis ova wit' please?" Spot yelled and Bright Eyes snuck out of the room.
