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Part 7: A New Round

Rummy walked down the hospital hall. It was the morning after they had hit Harlem, and he was visiting the Brooklyn newsies. He couldn't help but smile, though it was bittersweet. No one could deny that the Brooklyn newsies were more than self-centered brutes, but the cost had been three more lives. Rummy wondered if Spot knew. Standing outside a door, he took a deep breath and went in to find out.

Spot lay on the bed, dressed in street clothing. His hospital gown lay crumpled on the floor, but he wasn't wearing his blood and dirt stained battle clothes either. Crackhead, who was standing at Spot's side, must have brought him the change. Rummy quietly walked over and looked down. Spot's face and arms were covered in bruises and cuts. His breathing was harsh and raspy. After the fight, he had collapsed, and been taken back to Brooklyn because he insisted on being with his newsies. He refused care up unto the point he passed out. Now he didn't look improved at all, his face porcelain white except for some bright splotches of red from fever.

Crackhead looked so nurturing that Rummy had to smile. Motioning Rummy to be quiet, since Spot appeared asleep, he whispered, "The Doc's said he's got pneumonia. He also broke some ribs, and cracked some other things. I know its Spot and all, but.do you think he'll make it?" Crackhead looked anxious, as if asking such a question was blasphemous. But Rummy could understand his concern. He was mildly surprised to realize he shared it.

Suddenly, a weak, faint, but unmistakable Brooklyn accent belonging to Spot cut in. "Please..I'm from Brooklyn. A Brooklyn newsie ain't.never.gonna..be a lost cause from some Harlem scum." Slowly Spot's eye's opened. Though red and tired, they had the famous Spot Conlon glint. A crack of his lips, resembling his goofy, quirky smirk showed through the pain.

Crackhead actually yelped in cheer, ready to lung on Spot for a hug when Rummy pulled him off. Spot smiled at him, and tried to laugh, but it sent him into fits of coughs. Crackhead looked nervous, until Spot lay back down and motioned him over. Grasping Crackhead's hand, he said, "Crack, why don't you tell Rummy his new Brooklyn newsie name?" Crack turned excitedly, and positively beaming said, "Well, since you're good at mind games, and smart at figuring people and plans out, we named you.Game Plan!"

Spot smiled at Rummy's attempted look at pleasure. "Oh, thanks Crack. Actually, that would fit." Disappointed, Crack turned back to Spot, who shrugged and said, "Don't worry about it kid. I like it." Crack, looking like he'd been given the best gift in the world from those words, whispered, "I'm glad I could help. The hardest thing I ever had to do was pretend that I didn't want you as a leader any more." Blushing as he said that, Crack scrambled out of the room, leaving Rummy and Spot alone.

Rummy approached Spot, saying, "That is one great kid." Spot smiled and nodded, but he looked like he was struggling to stay awake. Not thinking Spot would die anymore, Rummy nonetheless thought he should make his visit as quick as possible. Spot must have had the same idea, because he said, yawning, "I'm really tired. Not to freak you out or anything, cause I'm fine, but the longer I stay awake, the more everything hurts. I don't think I can keep from falling asleep much longer."

Rummy nodded and said, smiling, "Well, at least while your in here you'll get to rest. I'm sure Crack will make sure of that." He relayed the news about the three other newsies, and Spot looked pained, but accepted the information without any other reaction. Then Rummy paused and said, "Thanks for everything, Spot, but.I decided I'm leaving the newsies." Looking, Spot reacted calmly to this, whether from medication or not Rummy wasn't sure. Spot said, "I kinda figured you would. I mean, I thought it might go either way, but I respect your decision."

Rummy nodded slowly. "It's not that I don't like being a newsie, but I just don't see myself as one. I thought about it, and I realized that I like hanging out with the guys, and being part of the cause, but selling papers isn't for me. I miss gambling, and I miss stealing. I know it isn't right, but it all depends of who you steal from, like..."

"Like what you lie about?" Spot interjected softly. Rummy nodded, and Spot said, "I get it. I mean, I don't really, but that's because I am a newsie. I can't imagine not being one, or at least not being part of the newspaper business. If the thieves and gamblers are like you, I'm sure I'd like to hang out with them, but I wouldn't give up being a newsie. Especially in Brooklyn. Just don't forget about us, come and visit, okay?" Spot added with a fake stern note in his voice. Considering the position he was in, Rummy had to laugh.

"Don't worry. I'll hook you and Race up with good games all the time. We'll just be honest with one another, from now on, okay? I don't want another Conlon soaking." Rummy joked, but Spot feigned a hurt expression. "I ain't never told you a lie! You were the one that did that, mister."

Rummy raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah? What about what you told me about that key you wear around your neck?" At his mention of the key, Spot suddenly broke into a wide smile. Innocently he asked, "What about it?" Rummy sighed, then said, "Fine, I'll play along. You told me that a princess in the United States gave it to you." Spot nodded, and said, "Yea, so?"

Rummy threw his hands up in frustration. "There is no princess of the United States!" He crossed his arms, waiting for Spot to come clean. But Spot merely shrugged, and fingering the key said, "I told you the truth. Her title was princess. Everyone called her princess." Then the quirky smirk came back. "I just neglected to add that she walked on all fours, had a tail, and looked suspiciously like a dog." Seeing Rummy's disbelieving stare, Spot said, "Don't look at me like that! You'll make me laugh again, and that hurts like hell! Anyway, it was my first day on the streets in Brooklyn, and here comes this dog, carrying this key. She stopped in front of me and dropped it at my feet, waiting for me to pick it up. It was like she was handing me the key to the city! Once I had, her owner called her off, saying the name princess. So I kept the key and told most of the story. But I didn't lie."

Rummy couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah, like bluffing ain't cheating. That works." He saw a weird expression on Spot's face, and quickly asked, "Should I get a doctor?" Spot impatiently waved him off. "No, stop treating me like a baby. I was just thinking, since I kept the key, I hope it wasn't to something important that the owner needed." Then he shrugged. "Oh well. What?" Spot looked suspiciously at Rummy, who was smiling and shaking his head. Rummy just said, "It's nothing. I'm just thinking how, the first day I met you, I didn't really expect you to be so.funny. Goofy funny. It doesn't really fit, but then it does. I don't know, sorry. At least you can't soak me now, I think I could outrun you."

Nonetheless, Rummy backed away, laughing and holding his hands up in mock self defense, as Spot tried not to laugh. Spot finally said, "And I thought that you were a conniving wuss when I first met you. Now I realize you're just conniving." At that a spasm took Spot's chest. Once it'd quieted, Spot said, "I think I need to sleep for awhile. But I'll see you soon." At that, they shook carefully, and Spot finally let his eyelids close. On his way out, Rummy paused to turn and say, "And maybe then you can tell me the truth about where you got that cheap cane." But his insult was lost, seen as Spot was already fast asleep. Smiling, closing the door behind him, Rummy was sure he'd have plenty of more chances to insult, and get soaked for not keeping his mouth shut, by the leader of the Brooklyn newsies. He hadn't been that changed by the recent experience. But it was much easier to go out onto the streets now, to stake his new claim, knowing that he had some new rules to play by, as well as the newsies in his life.

The End