Chapter 2 - Newsiesettes

Chapter 2



Spot. What kind of name is that? I scoffed to myself. "Extra, extra!" I shouted, "Train Crash in Brooklyn. Few survived!" I gulped. I remembered hearing that too. I felt tears well up, but I choked them back and swallowed my fears and pain.

"One over here." A lady called to me. I handed her a paper, she gave me my money and a smile. It was a smile of pity. Like I should be something more than selling papers on Manhattan's streets. Maybe I should be. Or maybe it was my imagination and that smile was just friendly and meant nothing more.

"Hey, kid!" I turned around to face a rather large man, sort of gruff looking. I tried to smile and began to pick up the top paper off my stack.

He knocked it out of my hands and kicked it. I looked at him in surprise. I opened my mouth and said "Hey!" I was shocked even more. There was another voice. It wasn't though my voice didn't sound the same to me. It was the fact that it wasn't my voice. This was louder and much more familiar. I turned around to see the ever cocky, arrogant, jerk Spot.

Somehow, I was almost relieved to see him. I just stared.

He walked up the man and rammed him in the stomach as hard as he could with the sharp end of the cane he carried. I never understood that. It wasn't as though he had a walking difficulty. I suppose he thought it made him look powerful and almighty. It did. "That's for messing' with a friend." He looked at me and smirked. Then we turned around quickly and he whispered in my ear, "Now, we run like hell." And we did.

We ran forever. As I looked around I didn't recognize the place I was in. I tried to think. The Brooklyn Bridge? That's it. We had ran to Brooklyn. I was clutching Spot's arm so tightly that he'd probably have nail marks for weeks.

Finally we slowed to a stop. I tried to remember how to breathe. I did, and my breaths were sharp, short and rugged. I tried desperately to hold them in longer and to release them slower. I didn't let go of Spot's arm and he noticed because he'd occasionally look down at my arm linked with his. He didn't say anything then. He didn't have to. And I don't really think he minded.

Walking at a slow pace, we reached a dock filled with boys in long johns. I got the usual low whistles and shouts. It was always flattering and I always loved it. Even though, these guys weren't much for looking at. "What's the matter with ya? Where's your manners?" Spot yelled at them and they automatically quieted down. I looked down so they wouldn't see me smirk at their obedience. Spot wasn't that large. He had muscles but they weren't all that big or scary. And he wasn't fierce, he was just confident. I for one, think its the cane.

As we walked to the end of the dock, I saw a stack of wooden logs and boards made into a chair. "Where are we?" I whispered to him.

He nodded at the "chair". "Sit." I looked at him for a moment. Then I looked at our intertwined arms. He smiled. "You can let go ya know." I laughed.

"Oh." I said sheepishly. I let go reluctantly. "It was just, I was afraid if I let go I'd end up taking your arm with me, since I was holding on so tight."

He laughed and I decided that after he saved me from that man back in Manhattan, I trusted him. So I sat. "We're in Brooklyn." He said matter-of-factly.

"I know that." I said, "But, why are we here? That man wouldn't have chased all the way here. Would he?"

Spot shook his head. Then the thought for a moment. "Well, maybe. At least till the edge of

Manhattan. And he'll be looking for the kid with the cane for days."

I bit my lip. "Your right. I'm sorry. That's all my fault." my voice trailed off, then i thought for a moment, "But, wait. You didn't have to help me. You just did. So really, you volunteered that."

He nodded. "Yeah, I did."

I smiled. He returned his smile. His sweet, honest, pure smile. That was one of the best thing about him. The very best was his eyes. They were a beautiful...well, gray. An almost clear gray with just the hint of blue. Maybe even specks of green. "Um, Spot?" He nodded.

"You called me your friend. We haven't even talked except to return insults."

He opened his mouth to say something and then he paused. He started again. "Maybe...we could start over. Friends?"

I smiled. "Yeah. I'd like that." This made me think. Was Spot afraid to be nice? And did he really care about me? Oh, Emily. Please. You've already told yourself what's wrong with him. Many times. Remember? He's got more flaws than the Delancey's!...Emily...no, stop right now Emily. You won't do this to yourself. You will not love him. You will not. But,it was too late. I'd warned myself, my heart, too late. I liked Spot. I liked him more than anyone I've ever liked before. I felt safe and special with him. And as we all know, there's no turning back with love.