"Wake up, Daffodil!" Mush called out, joyfully. "C'mere, I wanna shows youse somet'ing!"

"What is it, Mush?" I asked drowsily, shifting in bed. A quick peek showed me everyone BUT Mush was sleeping, and somehow they could ignore his early-morning squawking.

He reached up onto the bunk I was in and pulled me out of it, setting me neatly on the ground. I tried to pry my eyes open. "Yeah?" I yawned.

"Look!" he said lightly, taking my hand and leading me to the window.

"That would be a fire escape," I told him. I tried to turn to go back to bed.

"No, silly! In da sky!" He pointed above the buildings and, only because I figured the sooner I looked, the sooner I could get back to sleep, I looked.

I gasped. "Oh, Mush! It's beautiful!" I looked at the sky, alive with vibrant colors of early sunrise. Pinks danced with purples, with blue cutting in; yellows and oranges slashed through. Mush looked over at me and grinned, his dimples showing.

"Ya like it?" he asked quietly.

I looked over at him. Despite the black eye and a small cut covered in dry blood on his cheek, he looked as handsome as ever. "I love it."

"Sometimes, I'se wake up oily jus' t' watch it. Tain't nothin' like New Yawk in da summah." He grinned at me. "You'se da foist person I'se showed."

"I'm honored," I said honestly. He put his arms around my waist and held me from behind, and together we watched the blue chase all the other colors from the sky, until Kloppman came up to wake everyone. He smiled when he saw us.

"Don't do anything that makes me regret allowing her to stay," he warned Mush.

"Aw, Kloppman! I'd neveh do nothin' to my Daffodil." Mush leaned in and kissed me softly, sweetly.

"BOOTS!" The moment was broken by Kloppman beginning his morning rounds of waking everyone. Giggling, I stepped out of Mush's arms and, grabbing a dress from my suitcase, darted down the stairs to the washroom I used.

I looked more closely at the dress. It was my purple one, the one I'd worn on the first day of meeting Mush and Snap. It now had stains, and the bottom was a muddy brown. I wrinkled my nose as I put it on, and buttoned the back. I slipped my white apron on over it, and it too was dirty. I washed my face with the water that waited ready in the pitcher for me (Mr. Kloppman never forgot to get me clean water), and dried it off with the little towel sitting beside the large bowl. I brushed through my hair and pinned it up. It was only then that I realized I could no longer wear the hat I'd been wearing – it had fallen off the previous day into the river. I sighed as I looked at my reflection. I guessed it was finally time to get myself a newsie hat.

Mush and Kid Blink laughed when I suggested it. "Me goil? Me proper goil, in a newsie hat? Daffodil, I'se thinks you'se growin' up!" Mush said triumphantly. "Heah, ya can wear me hat today, and we'll buy ya one tomorra."

With that, he plunked his hat on top of my carefully done hair. He let out a chuckle. "Now, Daffodil, you'se a real newsie."

"A real newsie?" I echoed, liking the sound of it.

"Yup." He took my hand, and we ran downstairs with everyone else. Mush got a few more papers today than the past days; we'd been selling all of them fairly easily, and he told me this was a good thing. An hour later, all the papers were gone, probably due in large part to the fact that Mush had such a horrible-looking black eye that the ladies passing felt sorry for him.

"So? Is you'se up fer a swim t'day, Daffodil?" he asked me sweetly, holding out his arm for me to hold.

I took it. "Oh, Mush, I don't know," I confessed. "You saw what happened yesterday. Do you really want to fight with Spot again?"

"Ah, I've put it behind me," he answered optimistically. "He pro'bly didn' mean nothin' by it. Maybe he wasn' sure that youse me goil. But whatever he thought, today he'll know that we's together, and he won' do anythin' to ya. Me and Spot, we go back. He wouldn' do tha' to a friend. He's not a poison ya wanna get in fights wit', but he's also da mos' loyales' poison I'se know."

With that, he determinedly set out for Spot's bridge, telling me the whole way that I'd see that he was right and Spot was still his friend.

Spot apparently had the same attitude as Mush when we arrived, because he did a spit-shake with him. They talked for a moment, and laughed. "No, I dun like 'er, like that!" I heard Spot say warmly. "I jus' don' like t' swim, and she's in'erestin'. I'se sorry things got outta hand yestahday." He inspected Mush's face. "Say, tha's a nice shiner, Mushy!"

"Ha, I on'y get shinahs from da best!" With that, Mush turned to me and beamed. "Ya ready t' swim, Daffodil?"

"Mush, I'm cold," I answered. "I don't really feel like swimming today. I'll watch you, though."

"A-a-all right!" he said happily, and, kicking off his outer clothes, jumped into the water. I sat on the side of the bridge and watched him splash with the Brooklyn boys. Spot sat next to me.

"So, I's confused, Daffodil," he told me softly, watching the newsies, too. "Ya tell Mush tha' ya on'y love him, an' yet ya choose t' spend time on da dock with Spot. Tha' don' make sense t' me."

"I just don't want to swim," I said stiffly, not taking my eyes of Mush. He looked up and winked at me. I grinned back.

"Say, wha's this hat? It looks like Mush's," Spot accused.

"That'd be because it is Mush's," I answered. "He's my beau. And if I want to wear his hat, I will."

"Well, well, well!" Spot said, looking taken aback. "Ya don' hafta yell."

The mid-morning sun began to get hot, and I rolled up the sleeves on my dress. Mush came clambering up so that his head was level to the pier and perched there, grinning. "You'se sure you don' wanna come swimmin'?" he asked me, raising his eyebrows. "Ya look migh'y hot, sweatin' up heah."

"Mush," I said softly, "there's something I want to tell you."

"Wha' is it, Daffodil?" he asked, climbing onto the pier and staring at me in concern. He led me a little ways away from Spot. Even though Spot concentrated on watching his newsies, I could tell he was in fact listening to us. I led Mush a little further away.

"The truth is," I said, fumbling with my skirt, "I've never been swimming in anything bigger than a pond. This," I said, motioning at the river, "is too big for me." I looked up at him. "Are you mad?"

"Mad?" He let out a mighty chuckle. "Why'd I be mad fer? Say, why didn' ya mention it oilier? (A/N: That means "earlier"… thought I'd clarify since it looks so weird.) Den I wouldn'-a-been draggin' ya heah! Dere's tons a t'ings we'se could be doin'! Includin'," he said slyly, "teachin' ya how ta swim, newsie style." He looked over his shoulder at all the Brooklyn newsies, including Spot, who had abandoned all pretenses and was openly watching us now. "But we'll do it latah, when dey ain' aroun'. I 'spect dat's why you'se didn' wanna say it in front a Spot?"

"Yeah," I confessed.

"I'll tell da boys t' meet us heah tanigh'. Don' worry! I'll only be's choosin' da ones I know's you trust." He turned to pick up his clothes, and I couldn't help but stare at how in shape he was, as his bare chest and wet, skintight underclothes showed. Then, we said goodbye to Spot, and headed back into our territory. I breathed a sigh of relief. Spot hadn't tried to make any moves today. Maybe we'd read each other all wrong.