"So, Daffodil," Spot said, sitting next to me on the dock as Jack
somersaulted off it, letting out a cowboy yell. "Where'd ya meet Mush?"
I told him the story of our meeting, including Snitch pushing me down. I realized I was talking too much and tried to stop, but Spot urged me on. He was a really good listener, as he peered at me with his clear blue eyes.
"Hey, hold still," he told me once I'd finished. "Ya got somet'in in yer hair." I held still and he reached out to pull whatever it was from my braided tresses.
"Hey! Spot! What'chu doin' to Mush's goil?" an obscure newsie called, and a second later, a dripping wet Mush was right in front of us.
"You got a problem, Conlon?" he growled, knocking Spot's arm away. Everyone, including Spot and me, just blinked at him. Nobody messes with Spot Conlon. Nobody.
"Whoa, whoa, wha's the big deal?" Spot asked angrily a second later, holding up his hands innocently, then balling them into fists. "You wanna figh' me, Mush? Ya wanna figh' me?"
Mush seemed to have now realized what he'd done, but he didn't back down. Spot jumped to his feet, leaving just me dangling my feet over the water. All the newsies, Brooklyn's and Manhattan's, climbed back up on the dock for a better view. I covered my eyes as Spot pulled out his cane and took a swipe at Mush, which he barely escaped from.
I couldn't see them, as my back was to them and I was covering my eyes, but I could hear the thud of fist on skin, and the cheering of the different sections of boys. I wondered why no one—especially Jack—stopped it.
I winced at a really bad-sounding hit, and heard a Brooklyn boy shout, "Atta boy, Spot!", so I knew Mush had been hit. A second later, I was jolted out of my eyes-covered, black world as I went flying off the bridge. From what I later heard, Mush had been so disoriented that he couldn't see where he was going, and had knocked into me accidentally.
I screamed until I hit the water. My skirts soaked up the water, and I couldn't have swam if I had tried. I flailed about, as the river pulled me underwater. I couldn't breathe, and whenever my mouth tried to gasp for air, it only gulped water. Then I felt a body in the water close to mine, and an arm closed around my waist. A minute later, my face broke the surface. Relieved voices called out praise. Trying to sort out my water- logged brain, I looked over to kiss Mush. And I found that my rescuer was Spot.
"Ya don' have t' look so surprised, Miss Daffodil," he said softly as he swam with me over to the bridge, shaking water from his thick, light brown hair. "Mush ain't the on'y one who cares for ya." When he swam with me under the bridge, he leaned over and kissed me. Since all the newsies were up on the bridge, no one saw. He didn't say anything after it, just helped lift me up while newsies pulled me from above. My eyes sparkled with tears when I saw Mush lying, unconscious, on the pier. Then, exhausted, I let myself fall to the pier and just cry.
*
Snitch carried me home, and Jack carried Mush. I was perfectly content to lie, immobile, in Snitch's arms; Mush, however, was a different story. He woke up halfway back to Kloppman's, and insisted that Jack put him down. He limped slightly beside Snitch the rest of the way (By the time we got back to the lodge house, his limp was gone, but he was clenching his teeth. He had what looked like it would be a serious black eye and some pretty, green bruises, but they didn't seem to bother him). He wanted to carry me, but Jack just told him not to be foolish.
When we got to Kloppman's, the kind old man was bewildered. "What happened to the lot of you?" he asked in his soft voice.
"Mush got in a fight," Skittery answered as he passed by.
"Sure was a humdinger!" Boots praised as he entered.
"An' I missed it?" Crutchy said. He was just coming down the stairs.
"And to her?" Kloppman asked, peering at me. Snitch gently put me on the ground.
"I fell in," I answered.
"I knocked 'er in!" Mush fumed. "Spot jus' hit me, an' I couldn' catch meself, an' I knocked 'er in!"
"Hold on!" Crutchy shouted. "You was in a fight against Spot Conlon?"
"He was makin' a move on me goil," Mush answered, hugging me close to him. I kept my mouth shut about the kiss Spot had laid on me under the bridge – Mush couldn't have lived with that, and would've gone right back to get revenge: probably with the end result of Spot killing him.
We all went up to the bunk room, and Mush convinced Snitch to be the one to sleep on the floor for the night so he could be near me. The rest of the boys were goofing off in the bathroom when Mush reached out and took my hand. We were both standing by the beds. "I's sorry that I knocked ya in da rivah," he said sadly. He wouldn't meet my eyes.
"Oh, Mush!" I cried, and wrapped my arms around his neck. I kissed him, hard, on the mouth. When I broke away, he stared at me in shock. "I love you."
"Whooooooo-ee!" he shouted, staring at me in elation. "Whooooooo-ee!" He started off for the washroom, yelling the whole way about how he should shove me into rivers more often.
I smiled to myself, then organized Snitch's bed to my liking.
The boys came back out a few minutes later, most of them sopping wet (apparently Snipeshooter had started a water fight) and yet, surprisingly, extremely happy, despite the fact that they'd just gotten dry from their swimming a few minutes before. Mush let loose with a little jig in the middle of the room, ending with a backflip. Apparently now his leg was no longer hurting him, and while his bruises had darkened, along with his black eye, his spirit apparently hadn't. The boys all laughed and clapped for him. So, of course, I had to show him up. I hadn't taken those five years of dance classes for nothing.
When I finished with my own little dance, the boys all clapped and whistled, and Mush looked at me with the glint in his eye that told me he'd just thought of something. "You teach me how to dance all fancy-like, and I'll teach you how to dance street-like!" he suggested.
Laughing, I agreed. Feeling more than just a little foolish, I taught him how to waltz and fox-trot. "I wish I had a cam'ra," Jack hooted when Mush started getting the hang of it. "A purty girl in 'er nightgown and Mush in 'is underclothes, dancin' all fancy!" All the fellows had a hearty laugh.
Then Mush set forth, teaching me how to do his dances. All the boys cheered for me when I mastered his trademark backflip.
"How'd I git so lucky as t' have a girl who's not on'y smar' an' purty, but who looks and dances like an angel?" he asked me. The boys, of course, called out sarcastic "awwww"'s and such.
"I love you, Mush. You and only you." And with that, Kloppman came in to make sure we were all going to bed. I fell asleep as soon as my head hit Snitch's pillow.
I told him the story of our meeting, including Snitch pushing me down. I realized I was talking too much and tried to stop, but Spot urged me on. He was a really good listener, as he peered at me with his clear blue eyes.
"Hey, hold still," he told me once I'd finished. "Ya got somet'in in yer hair." I held still and he reached out to pull whatever it was from my braided tresses.
"Hey! Spot! What'chu doin' to Mush's goil?" an obscure newsie called, and a second later, a dripping wet Mush was right in front of us.
"You got a problem, Conlon?" he growled, knocking Spot's arm away. Everyone, including Spot and me, just blinked at him. Nobody messes with Spot Conlon. Nobody.
"Whoa, whoa, wha's the big deal?" Spot asked angrily a second later, holding up his hands innocently, then balling them into fists. "You wanna figh' me, Mush? Ya wanna figh' me?"
Mush seemed to have now realized what he'd done, but he didn't back down. Spot jumped to his feet, leaving just me dangling my feet over the water. All the newsies, Brooklyn's and Manhattan's, climbed back up on the dock for a better view. I covered my eyes as Spot pulled out his cane and took a swipe at Mush, which he barely escaped from.
I couldn't see them, as my back was to them and I was covering my eyes, but I could hear the thud of fist on skin, and the cheering of the different sections of boys. I wondered why no one—especially Jack—stopped it.
I winced at a really bad-sounding hit, and heard a Brooklyn boy shout, "Atta boy, Spot!", so I knew Mush had been hit. A second later, I was jolted out of my eyes-covered, black world as I went flying off the bridge. From what I later heard, Mush had been so disoriented that he couldn't see where he was going, and had knocked into me accidentally.
I screamed until I hit the water. My skirts soaked up the water, and I couldn't have swam if I had tried. I flailed about, as the river pulled me underwater. I couldn't breathe, and whenever my mouth tried to gasp for air, it only gulped water. Then I felt a body in the water close to mine, and an arm closed around my waist. A minute later, my face broke the surface. Relieved voices called out praise. Trying to sort out my water- logged brain, I looked over to kiss Mush. And I found that my rescuer was Spot.
"Ya don' have t' look so surprised, Miss Daffodil," he said softly as he swam with me over to the bridge, shaking water from his thick, light brown hair. "Mush ain't the on'y one who cares for ya." When he swam with me under the bridge, he leaned over and kissed me. Since all the newsies were up on the bridge, no one saw. He didn't say anything after it, just helped lift me up while newsies pulled me from above. My eyes sparkled with tears when I saw Mush lying, unconscious, on the pier. Then, exhausted, I let myself fall to the pier and just cry.
*
Snitch carried me home, and Jack carried Mush. I was perfectly content to lie, immobile, in Snitch's arms; Mush, however, was a different story. He woke up halfway back to Kloppman's, and insisted that Jack put him down. He limped slightly beside Snitch the rest of the way (By the time we got back to the lodge house, his limp was gone, but he was clenching his teeth. He had what looked like it would be a serious black eye and some pretty, green bruises, but they didn't seem to bother him). He wanted to carry me, but Jack just told him not to be foolish.
When we got to Kloppman's, the kind old man was bewildered. "What happened to the lot of you?" he asked in his soft voice.
"Mush got in a fight," Skittery answered as he passed by.
"Sure was a humdinger!" Boots praised as he entered.
"An' I missed it?" Crutchy said. He was just coming down the stairs.
"And to her?" Kloppman asked, peering at me. Snitch gently put me on the ground.
"I fell in," I answered.
"I knocked 'er in!" Mush fumed. "Spot jus' hit me, an' I couldn' catch meself, an' I knocked 'er in!"
"Hold on!" Crutchy shouted. "You was in a fight against Spot Conlon?"
"He was makin' a move on me goil," Mush answered, hugging me close to him. I kept my mouth shut about the kiss Spot had laid on me under the bridge – Mush couldn't have lived with that, and would've gone right back to get revenge: probably with the end result of Spot killing him.
We all went up to the bunk room, and Mush convinced Snitch to be the one to sleep on the floor for the night so he could be near me. The rest of the boys were goofing off in the bathroom when Mush reached out and took my hand. We were both standing by the beds. "I's sorry that I knocked ya in da rivah," he said sadly. He wouldn't meet my eyes.
"Oh, Mush!" I cried, and wrapped my arms around his neck. I kissed him, hard, on the mouth. When I broke away, he stared at me in shock. "I love you."
"Whooooooo-ee!" he shouted, staring at me in elation. "Whooooooo-ee!" He started off for the washroom, yelling the whole way about how he should shove me into rivers more often.
I smiled to myself, then organized Snitch's bed to my liking.
The boys came back out a few minutes later, most of them sopping wet (apparently Snipeshooter had started a water fight) and yet, surprisingly, extremely happy, despite the fact that they'd just gotten dry from their swimming a few minutes before. Mush let loose with a little jig in the middle of the room, ending with a backflip. Apparently now his leg was no longer hurting him, and while his bruises had darkened, along with his black eye, his spirit apparently hadn't. The boys all laughed and clapped for him. So, of course, I had to show him up. I hadn't taken those five years of dance classes for nothing.
When I finished with my own little dance, the boys all clapped and whistled, and Mush looked at me with the glint in his eye that told me he'd just thought of something. "You teach me how to dance all fancy-like, and I'll teach you how to dance street-like!" he suggested.
Laughing, I agreed. Feeling more than just a little foolish, I taught him how to waltz and fox-trot. "I wish I had a cam'ra," Jack hooted when Mush started getting the hang of it. "A purty girl in 'er nightgown and Mush in 'is underclothes, dancin' all fancy!" All the fellows had a hearty laugh.
Then Mush set forth, teaching me how to do his dances. All the boys cheered for me when I mastered his trademark backflip.
"How'd I git so lucky as t' have a girl who's not on'y smar' an' purty, but who looks and dances like an angel?" he asked me. The boys, of course, called out sarcastic "awwww"'s and such.
"I love you, Mush. You and only you." And with that, Kloppman came in to make sure we were all going to bed. I fell asleep as soon as my head hit Snitch's pillow.
