The two old friends sat up until late into the night.
Talking.
Spot told her the real reason why he had trekked to Manhattan that night.
"There's gonna be a toif war Angelina, and Ise don't know what to do."
"Have you told the boys?" she asked softly.
He shook his head. "Ise can't tell dem," he said softly. "I need to talk ta Jack foist. I didn' realize how late it was till I saw youse up heah."
She nodded and grinned, staring out at the crisp sky. "Yeah your right. It is really late," she pointed east. "Because there's the sun and I haven't slept at all."
"Me either," he said watching with her as the sun rose up over the buildings.
"This can't be happening," Blink said horrified.
"A turf war?" Race asked. "Why so close to da strike annivoisery?"
"We don't know," Spot said twirling his cane in anger. "But one tings fur sure, dis ain't gonna go any foithah."
"We'll help youse guys," Meilin said.
"No," Race said staring at her as well as Angel. "Youse two ain't newsies."
Angel laughed.
"Don't give me that Anthony," she said bluntly. "Not being a newsie has never stopped me before. I am as much Brooklyn as Spot and Manhattan as you."
"She's right," Spot said defensively. " Wese hafta let dem fight. It is der decision not ours."
Race sighed submitting to their words.
"Now Harlem isn't on our side," Spot picked up. "da Bronx is completely against all a us and Queens is in a civil war, half is fightin us, de udder half is on our side. Besides dat it's just youse guys and me."
"So," Angel said. "Only five turfs, no more."
"The udders," Spot said directly to her. "Are staying out a dis."
Angel nodded.
"So," Jack said. "Where do we go from here?"
"I don't know," Spot said.
