Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to us, except Midnight and Enchanted.
Mirrors
~*~
It had been two weeks since Enchanted had made the trip to the Bronx to visit a stubborn Midnight. Spot and Midnight made less and less appearances around New York, and therefore didn't get in each other's hair too much. Since then, it had been abnormally quiet between the warring territories, except for one colossal and nasty fight on the Brooklyn Bridge, where Hazard and Pyro unwittingly stepped beyond the borders of Bronx area and crossed over into Brooklyn territory. There, rambunctious Blue, with his natural tendency to get into fights loudly challenged them to one. Which of course, Pyro and Hazard accepted. They had reputations to look after, right?
Although it was two against one, it was fairly matched. Hazard and Pyro were fair fighters, but Blue's skill was outstanding enough to handle them. The three of them managed to do enough damage to each other to get a bull on his beat to notice the tumult they were causing on the Brooklyn Bridge. When the sharp whistling permeated the air, Blue broke away first from the fray and fled the scene. Mimic and Hazard, shouting curses after his retreating back, turned too, before the clad-in-blue bull could get his tarrying hands on them.
Midnight threw a fit when they arrived. She couldn't be blamed. After all, two of her girls had arrived with bruises scattered all over their body after promising her that they were just 'going on a walk'. She rashly forbade all newsies to step into Brooklyn unless she sent them or unless she was with them. This imprisoned almost all of the Bronx newsies: most of them loved swimming on the Brooklyn piers or most of them had close friends that resided in the Lodging House. The atmosphere in the Lodging House became restless and uneasy.
Ethan, on the other hand, just as he was stepping off the boat, had no idea what had happened between Brooklyn and Bronx, and if he did know, he probably wouldn't have cared. Right now, all he was worried about was making sure that he made it to the hotel his father had told him to stay at until he arrived from Boston again. Then, the real vacation would begin.
His father was always like that. It didn't offend Ethan any because he knew the excuse was a good one. His mother, with her brown hair and cold, gray eyes, would be enough to keep him away from home too. Sure, she had a delicate, ethereal beauty that turned other people's heads on the street, but all she ever seemed to want to do was count her endless piles of money that she kept stashed away in her closet. Even during parties at other wealthy furnished houses, she never would enjoy herself. Instead, her gray eyes would start comparing the prices of their china vase to the china vase sitting on the mantel above the fireplace at home. If their vase was more expensive than hers, she would search for an even more extravagant vase at the most ludicrous prices, buy it, and then gloat upon it for at least a week. After a few months of taking his wife to his rich friends' houses, Ethan's father, Richard, soon quit at this attempt of bringing joy to his beautiful wife, understanding that if he didn't, he would end up broke and in the poorhouse.
Soon, Richard was always away on business trips, preferring to love his wife from afar. There, he could judge her objectively, and collect the only thing that Elizabeth required of him: more money.
The life Ethan lived was a lonely one. He had no siblings, no close family members (besides his father, who wrote him letters weekly so that he could get to know his only son), and no friends at all. His mother preferred to keep him under lock and key inside their mansion and she personally made sure that all the boys his age was kept away unless they were as rich as their family. As a result, most of Ethan's acquaintances were the snobby, spoiled kind.
Once, Ethan had complained to Carlotta about how quiet it was in the large mansion, and told her that he wished he had a little brother, or a little sister, or a little something to keep him company. The look on Carlotta's face turned from neutral to a fusion of pain, anger, and sorrow so swiftly that Ethan laughed uncomfortably and assured her he was just joking.
Well, he was glad that his father had talked his mother into letting him tag along to New York. It had been about time that he started seeing most of the world anyway.
Ethan looked around the tiny hotel room. For such a small space there was a huge fee. He shrugged smoothly. He didn't have to worry about spending money; his father had left plenty for him. For the rest of the afternoon, he decided, as he slid his suitcase underneath the bed and making sure it was hidden by the heavy quilt that draped over the bed and pooled to the floor, he would look around this beautiful city. He had never seen anything so diverse and so populated, and he had only got small glimpses through the carriage window he had called to convey him to the hotel. Now, he would explore this city thoroughly from end to end and force it to give up its secrets to him. Examining his reflection in the mirror (he was wearing a dark blue suit) he tried a desperate attempt at taming his mousy brown hair and sighed in exasperation as it once again flopped over his eyes. Finally, he tucked away the key that his grandfather had presented to him the year of his first birthday and exited the dwarfish room, locking the door behind him.
Blink wearily hawked the headlines of the last paper he held in his hand. It had never taken him this long to sell the papes. He tried another rendition of the worn-out headline and cursed when no one stopped, only stepped around him and gave him glances that basically meant, 'What are you still doing here, street trash?'
He raised his voice and tried again when someone walked by him mid-sentence and bumped him roughly.
"Sorry," the boy said in a thick English accent.
Blink swallowed his anger and turned away from the boy, shouting out the headline. His warm blue eye widened when he realized whom the boy looked like. "Spot?" he asked skeptically, pivoting to where the boy had been before. He had swiftly disappeared in the mass of bodies, and Blink had to fight his way against the crowd before he found him again.
"Spot!" he exclaimed triumphantly, placing a hand on his shoulder and spinning him around.
Ethan blinked his blue eyes and stared disbelievingly at the newsboy. "Excuse me?" he asked in that thick English accent.
"Spot, it's me, Blink," Blink said in reply to his confused stare. "Have you'se been drinkin' again?"
"Why are you calling me that? My name isn't Spot, it's Ethan."
"But it's you'se, Spot!" Blink laughed, like he had just got the meaning of a well-played joke. "I get it. You're messin' around wid me."
"No, I'm not," Ethan answered emphatically, "I have no idea who Spot is, all I know is that I'm not him."
"Shoah," Blink grinned widely, "and I suppose that there ain't a key around ya neck eiddah." His hand shot out and snatched up the concealed symbol that had become part of Spot's reputation.
"What are you doing?!" Ethan cried, tugging away backwards, almost snapping the string that held the precious key. "How did you know that was there?" No one could have known about that besides his family, and his family was miles away from here.
"C'mon, Spot!" Blink said with the same wide grin on his face. "I know it cuz you wear it all da time."
Ethan was suddenly afraid. He had no idea what this newsie was doing talking to him and how this newsie knew something so important about him. "Who is this Spot fellow?" he interrogated the patch-wearing boy.
"Ok, fine," Blink muttered. "Spot is da leadah of da Brooklyn newsies," he admitted resolutely.
"Where is Brooklyn?" Ethan inquired entirely too politely.
"It's ovah in dat direction, 'cross da bridge," Blink pointed, still playing along.
"Thank you," Ethan nodded his head and then quickly walked away in that direction. Within a few seconds he had vanished into the crowd.
Blink looked after him. The paper dropped from his hands and was instantly trampled by the passerby's. Ah, what was a penny worth anyways? It had taken a few more moments for it to work into Blink's brain that Spot had been wearing a suit. It had been navy-blue and looked as if it had been made of an expensive material.
Also, he hadn't been speaking with a Brooklyn accent. Brooklyn accents were rough and jagged. Spot's voice (at the moment) had been smooth and even, which was the complete opposite of his regular voice.
A little bit confused, and feeling that he should report this discovery to somebody who could make better sense of it than he could, Blink retraced his steps back to his selling post and then made his way back to the Lodging House, fighting against the swell of the crowd.
A few feet away from the door of the Lodging House, Blink was hit with a notion. The only reason that Spot would be acting this weird was because of Bronx. He was planning something against them. Propelled by this idea, he ran into the building and up the stairs, nearly colliding with Jack, who was leaning against the wall, relaxing.
"Heya, Blink. Whad's da rush?" Jack asked, carelessly.
"Guess what I just saw outside." Without waiting for an answer, Blink went on to describe the strange encounter he had had with the leader of Brooklyn. "He was wearin' a suit! A real expensive one, too...and he was speakin' widout his accent. He was talkin' really weird, now dat I t'ink 'bout it."
"Why are you so worked up about it?" Rook asked indifferently, running a hand through Jack's thick hair from where she was sitting. The mental picture that Blink painted was nothing at all like the short-tempered Spot. But then again, she had always known something was wrong with the vertically challenged rat.
"No, you don't get it!" Blink turned to her. "He could only be actin' weird ta---"
"He's plannin' sumptin' against Midnight." As usual, Jack was a step ahead and had interrupted Blink. Sighing, he slumped heavily against the wall. "I'm gonna have ta talk wid Spot when I'se see him," Jack muttered, mostly to himself. Once again, the burden of two partnerships was causing more stress than it was worth. Unseen by the others in the Lodging House, Rook patted his back in a gesture of comfort.
Ethan stopped in the middle of the street, oblivious to the curses that rang out behind him. He was absolutely certain that he had passed this building several times in the past hour. With rising hysteria, he realized that he had been going in circles and hadn't made it any further than this street. He destitutely admitted to himself that he had been horribly lost for about an hour, which was a blow to his already-suffering pride. He briefly considered asking for directions, but quickly ruled out that idea. He had no desire to replay what had happened with that patch-wearing newsie. That conversation had gotten him nowhere closer to Brooklyn, no matter how many times he thought about it. It was uncannily eerie. That newsie had really believed that he was this so-called 'Spot' the 'leader of Brooklyn'. Ethan was completely convinced that unless this Spot looked exactly like him, there was no reason to even start being confused. He was rich and English, which was an absolute antonym to being poor and American. Contemplating upon this a bit more, he turned down a different alley and tried to work his way out of the natural complexity that was the streets of New York.
"Luna," Mimic nudged the half-asleep girl that was perched on the edge of the roof next to her.
"Huh---what?" she blinked drowsily and would have fallen had Mimic not grabbed her.
"Look," she pointed out an expensively clad boy aimlessly wandering below them.
"Wondahful," Luna replied sardonically, "and be shoah ta wake me jist in case I miss da queen a England." So saying, she went back to drowsing sleepily. Ever since Midnight told them Brooklyn was off-limits, the days had gotten increasingly boring and uneventful. There were no more casual fist fights, clamorous poker games or exhausting swims at the piers. All they ever did nowadays was sit on the roof and talk or stay downstairs and sleep.
Mimic, exasperated, turned to the newsie beside her and pointed out the rich boy. "See dat, Batty?"
The newsboy was appropriately named. Whenever he was bored, angry, happy, or any other emotion, he seemed to go crazy. Afterwards, for a day, he would be totally subdued, and at first you thought that he felt ashamed at losing control. But the better you got to know him, you'd figure out it was because going crazy exhausted him.
"Yeah?" Batty ran a trembling hand through his dark hair.
"He's rich," Mimic stated the obvious.
"Yeah."
"He must be a snob."
Batty brightened as she noted this. "You know whad we could do?"
"We could leave him alone," Athena piped up from the shaded corner of the roof. She had fair skin and was already starting to sunburn. She hadn't noticed this, however, because she was engrossed in a book that she had bought from a pawn store.
"Aw, you're no fun," Mimic pouted. "Midnight's not even heah and we could use a lil fun. Let's go soak da snob."
"C'mon, let's go," Batty excitedly grabbed Mimic's hand, who grabbed Luna's hand and he tugged the two of them towards the half-open window that led down to the Bunk Room.
Athena sighed, marked her page in the book by inserting a newspaper bookmark and followed.
In the Bunk Room, the rest of the newsies, were engaged in different activities. The ones who could write were busily scribbling in journals, and the ones who could read were immersed in used books. The rest of them were playing card games right in the middle of the wooden floor.
"Hey, dere's a rich snob wandering outside ouah Lodging House right now," Mimic started.
"Tell it ta someone who cares," Pyro muttered as she threw a card down.
"As I was saying," Mimic threw an angry glare at the girl, who glared right back, "dere's a rich kid right outside. Let's go have a lil fun wid him."
Instantly, the word 'fun' had its desired effect on most of the lethargic newsies in the Bunk Room.
"Hell no," Snicker refused without hesitation.
"Yeah," Pyro agreed. "Midnight ain't even heah."
"Fo' God's sake," Hazard retorted, "dat's why we should do it! Evah since da fight wid Brooklyn, we've been stuck heah aftah we sell, day aftah day. Midnight's been up dere locked in her room, and dat gives us all a opportunity ta go out and have some fun instead of bein' stuck up in heah bored outta ouah minds!"
This outburst got murmured agreements from the rest of the newsies.
"Fine," Pyro shrugged as she put down another card. "Go git in trouble. I'se don't care."
"You don't care 'bout anything," Mimic said sharply.
"You ain't comin'?" Athena asked Snicker.
"Nope," she said adamantly, "go and have your 'fun'."
Athena seemed to consider this and then threw the book on her bed and plopped down next to the group playing with the cards. "Deal me in."
"Your loss," Hazard shrugged and accompanied the stream of newsies to the door. Batty and Mimic was at the head of the crowd and were the first to spot the expensively clad Ethan. His back was turned to them, and he was craning his neck, as if he were looking for a familiar face in the streets.
"Heya," Batty tapped Ethan on the shoulder. "Whatcha doin' heah, rich boy?"
"Are ya lost?" Mimic asked jokingly.
Ethan spun around on his heel. The Bronx newsies seemed to go in a state of shock when they realized who the 'rich snob' was. It happened to be Spot.
"Um...do you happen to know the way to Brooklyn?"
Now, this was even more shocking than the sight of Spot in a suit. Batty burst out laughing first, followed by Hazard, and soon the group of about 15 newsies was laughing uproariously. They had never heard Spot talk in such a snooty accent. Either it was all a joke or some crazy scheme...but whatever it was, they were going to get to the bottom of it.
Ethan stood frozen with a clueless and dazed look on his face. That wasn't exactly the reply he was expecting. "What's so funny?" he questioned a bit sheepishly. The sound of his British accent started the group laughing again, even louder than before. "I am honestly lost!" he exclaimed.
"Yeah right, Spot," Ring (another newsboy) chortled.
"No, honestly!"
"I suppose ya ain't Spot?" Mimic questioned, with a sneer spread on her lips.
"No, I am not." This elicited a little more laughter from the girls, but the boys had found it a little bit annoying. "I am lost. I'm from Britain. This one boy in Manhattan called me Spot too, and told me I could find him in Brooklyn. I seemed to have gotten a little lost, so I would like to get the directions from you and find this Spot fellow and smooth this out."
"Uh-huh," Batty crossed his arms, "shoah."
"It ain't funny anymore, Spot," Ring cut in, irritated.
"Stop calling me that!" Ethan demanded. "You don't even know my real name."
"Yes, we do, and it's Spot Conlon. Who happens to have been banned from da Bronx territory, which would mean dat if you don't git off it right now, we'll kick your ass." The boy who had uttered this, Bricks, was so named because he loved hitting people with them.
Ethan backed up slowly away from the Lodging House, towards a clothing store across the street. It seemed like this Spot fellow wasn't very popular at all. Ethan couldn't run; these newsies were fast runners and knew where they were going. When his back touched the wall of the clothing store, he turned his head from the advancing boys, scrunched his eyes closed tightly, and waited for the first blow to fall. He prayed that the people passing him by would stop the group of immature boys before they broke a few bones.
Batty clenched his right hand into a fist and got ready to punch Ethan, and hard. Vaguely, before he let his fist fly, he heard a muttered, "Shit," from behind him. He pivoted quickly, dropping his hand and unclenching his fingers.
Everyone seemed to have frozen with a look on their faces that was a mixture of shame and fear. Their heads were turned towards the Lodging House, and they looked absurdly like deer who had been spotted by hunters.
Midnight stormed across the street, walking briskly and ignoring the pain that came shooting from her stomach. Not even halfway there, she didn't waste any time as she started shouting at them. "Whad da hell do you'se t'ink you're doin', huh? I've nevah met such a bunch a damn idiots in my whole life! You wanna git put in da refuge, ya dumbasses?! Will someone please tell me whad you pinheaded people were doing?" She put a hand to her forehead and massaged between her temples, feeling a headache coming on. She still had not noticed the cowering Ethan. "I'se leave you guys alone for a few moments and you start harassing people in da street! How could ya do somethin' as narrow-minded as dat?!"
Throughout the whole tirade, a few of her newsies opened their mouths to speak but were cut off by her raving. Now, the newsies had lost their nerve and could do no more than exchange helpless glances.
"Well? Will someone please explain who got dis moronic idea in da foist place? I mean---" Midnight rattled on.
Mimic, prodded from behind by Hazard, squeaked and tried to explain. Before she could interrupt Midnight's flow of words, however, Ethan, did it faster.
"Your 'boys'," he spat out disgustedly, "were about to attack me."
"I am so sorry 'bout dat," Midnight apologized profusely, not taking her flaming eyes off of Batty, "and dey will be dealt wid shortly."
Mimic quickly spoke before Midnight could start ranting. "Look at his face, Midnight!" she nearly shouted.
Once again, she was too late. Midnight had already faced the boy and she was speechless and staring, shock visible on her face.
Taking courage in the silence, Hazard said, "If dat ain't Spot, you can shoot us."
"Yeah. We thought he was spyin' on us," Batty said.
Luna, who had been silent through the whole thing nodded emphatically. "Midnight, look at him. He was obviously plannin' somethin'!"
Midnight was oblivious to what her newsies were saying. For some strange reason, she knew it wasn't Spot standing before her. He was more than two inches taller than her, and there was just something about the eyes...they weren't glacial or icy. They were the complete opposite. Ethan didn't move as she scrutinized him. The only part of him that moved was his warm blue eyes as he, in turn, studied her too.
Finally, Midnight whispered, "No, you ain't Spot at all." To which Ethan inhaled in relief and slumped against the wall of the clothing store. She approached him, enclosed his wrist in her hand and tugged him across the street and into the Lodging House. She blatantly ignored the protests of her newsies as she slammed the wooden door closed. She dragged him up the stairs and past the Bunk Room, where Pyro, Athena and Snicker were still enthralled in their card game. They didn't notice as Midnight stamped past the open door with a Spot look-alike in tow.
"Wonder whad's happenin' ta dat poor rich boy down dere," Athena mused after a moment.
"He's prolly called da bulls on all a dem, and we'll hafta break 'em outta da Refuge," Pyro answered absentmindedly.
"Jist da four of us?" Snicker asked dubiously as she laid down her hand. "Two kings."
Safe within the confines of her room, Midnight released Ethan's wrist. Then, taking two deep breaths to calm herself, she faced the bewildered boy. "Who are you?" she bluntly asked. As Ethan opened her mouth to reply, she shook her head. "Nevah mind dat. You're prolly wonderin' why everyone's callin' you Spot, right? He's a boy up in Brooklyn, and you look exactly like him." In a corner of her mind, a little bit of doubt was still hovering. If this was really Spot standing here in front of her, making a huge fool out of her and her newsies, she wouldn't hesitate to beat his face in.
Outside, all the newsies were standing in the same places that Midnight had left them, confused and dazed. Finally, Luna asked the question that was haunting all of them. "What the hell just happened?"
"You know, it's really uncanny. You look exactly like him. Well, 'cept you're taller, and..." Midnight stopped there. She almost blushed, in fact, and briefly wondered why she was being so shy.
Ethan didn't notice how she paused and nodded. "A lot of people thought I was him." Then, he ruefully chuckled. "Not everyone seems to be fond of him, huh?"
"You have no idea," Midnight grumbled underneath her breath. She inhaled sharply and turned away from him to glance out the window. The sun was already setting. "Listen, you can't git ta Brooklyn now. It's too late." As if to prove this, she nodded at the setting sun.
Of course, he had no idea she was lying through her teeth. The Bronx bordered Brooklyn, and it would have taken only 15 minutes to get to the Brooklyn Lodging House.
"It ain't safe to go walkin' around today. Jist stay heah and tomorrow I'll go find Spot, arrite?" The moment she uttered this, Midnight asked herself what was wrong with her. She had no intention of even finding Spot or talking to him. And why did she insist he stay here at the Lodging House and not leave the Bronx? After a moment's deliberation, she shrugged the confusion off and told herself it was because she didn't want to be responsible for him if anything bad happened to him as he wandered around Brooklyn. After all, Spot would stoop so low to soak his look-alike for being impudent to him.
The sun dipped below the horizon, and soon night drew its curtain across New York.
When morning came, Midnight escorted Ethan back to his hotel. As he opened the door, he turned back to her. "Will you find Spot for me?"
Before she could stop her tongue, she said foolishly, "I promise."
He beamed, nodded politely at her and then disappeared into the building.
When the door closed, Midnight proceeded to beat her head upon it and cursed herself. She had promised him something she would never do. Still angry with herself, she walked away from the building, feeling the rays of the sun warm her neck.
Midnight returned in the evening and walked into the hotel lobby, a lie already formulated in her mind. "May I go ta see Ethan, please?" she politely inquired. The man at the desk glanced down at her and shook his head disgustedly.
"What would he want with a street rat like you," he didn't ask this, but rather stated it like it was a fact.
"I have great need of her," a voice from behind her made her whirl around. Ethan was sitting at the foot of the stairs, an annoyed look on his face. "And another thing. The next time someone comes around looking for me, you're to let them see me."
"Oh...fine," the man stuttered and waved his hand imperiously.
Ethan rolled his eyes and ascended the stairs, followed closely by Midnight. He didn't even wait to get to his room. He turned to her and asked with urgency, "Have you found him?"
"Uh...no," Midnight replied, her eyes cast to the floor. "Apparently, he's been gone and should be back in a week or so." She didn't even mention the important fact that Spot was the Brooklyn leader or that she was in a fight with him.
Ethan sighed, shook his head and plodded along to his room disappointedly. "Want to come inside for a few minutes?" he asked dejectedly.
Midnight briefly considered the question for a moment, but then decided not to. The secrecy was too much for her to handle, and she would probably blurt out something that would destroy the lie she had just told him. Plus, the pressure of the Brooklyn feud and keeping this boy safe was tearing her up inside.
"All right. I'll see you next week, then?" Ethan questioned.
"Wait." Midnight put her hand up. She had decided that it would be better if she had told someone who could help her out. Her mind flew straight to Jack. "I t'ink we should go see a friend a mine who could help ya find Spot."
The cold night caused Midnight to shiver. Walking along to the Manhattan Lodging House, the both of them made small talk on the furthest things from their mind.
Ethan was wondering to himself why it was so important to him to find Spot only because people have been telling him he looks exactly like him.
And Midnight, though she wasn't showing it, was extremely nervous. Too late, she discovered that she should have just confided in Enchanted and left the whole matter unknown to Jack. She contemplated over turning back, but she knew that Ethan would protest. Besides, it wasn't her style to back out of something because she was nervous. The Manhattan Lodging House was already in sight, so she couldn't just tell him that it was too late in the night to go any further.
As they walked along, Midnight saw something that made her blood run cold. She halted in her tracks without giving a warning to Ethan who collided into her from behind.
Posted outside the Lodging House were Blue, Cynic, and Tiger, boys that were inseparable from Spot.
"What's---" Ethan started, but Midnight raised a hand to shush him. She prayed they would go away, prayed more than she ever had in her life, but her hopes were squashed as she heard a loud voice from the upstairs window. She instantly recognized it as Spot's voice.
"Shit," she ducked down instinctively, and motioned for Ethan to follow her into an alley. He followed without asking any questions, something she would thank him for later. The alley was at the side of the Lodging House and there was a fire escape placed conveniently at the end of the alley that led right up to the window where the shouting was coming from.
Ethan crept along behind her, a thousand questions flooding to his lips, but the way Midnight was leading him along somehow told him that he would have to ask her later, when they could walk normally again.
Midnight signaled Ethan to crouch down by the bottom of the fire escape and wait as she ascended the steps slowly. She didn't have to strain to hear any of the words; the whole side of Manhattan could hear it without trying to. She didn't hear one word from Jack, however, and felt a twinge of pity for him. He couldn't get one word in edgewise, probably, at the speed Spot was going. She closed her eyes, gathered her courage and slowly peeked through the window.
The first thing she saw was Jack, facing her, but not noticing her. He looked ill at ease, and as if he was at a loss for words. In front of him, Spot paced back and forth, his can gripped in one hand and his other hand tightened in a fist. The look on his face was savage, and his glacial eyes were filled with a wild animalistic manner. He looked ready to kill something.
Behind Jack, Midnight could see the rest of the Manhattan newsies clustered together in a corner. Most of them didn't seem to move, except for Enchanted, who was scoffing softly underneath her breath at whatever absurd thing that Spot was saying, and Race, who was trying in vain to get her to shut up.
"If my sources inform me dat Midnight's been seen wandering around in Manhattan territory wid me, den she's wondering around in Manhattan territory, jist not wid me! Arrite?! I don't care whad da hell da excuse is, I'se want ya to find her da next time she's heah and beat one out of her! I want da situation taken care of!" Spot ignored the blank look that Jack was giving him and the glare that Enchanted was shooting at him.
Midnight could have stayed there and listened all night, but she realized with a start that Ethan was still at the bottom of the fire escape, listening too. Not needing to see anymore she ducked back down underneath the windowsill and listened for five more minutes until she crawled along the bottom of the window and then descended the stairs quickly. Still silent, she motioned Ethan to follow along behind her.
Yet as she turned to start walking, someone placed a rough hand on her shoulder...
~*~
Mirrors
~*~
It had been two weeks since Enchanted had made the trip to the Bronx to visit a stubborn Midnight. Spot and Midnight made less and less appearances around New York, and therefore didn't get in each other's hair too much. Since then, it had been abnormally quiet between the warring territories, except for one colossal and nasty fight on the Brooklyn Bridge, where Hazard and Pyro unwittingly stepped beyond the borders of Bronx area and crossed over into Brooklyn territory. There, rambunctious Blue, with his natural tendency to get into fights loudly challenged them to one. Which of course, Pyro and Hazard accepted. They had reputations to look after, right?
Although it was two against one, it was fairly matched. Hazard and Pyro were fair fighters, but Blue's skill was outstanding enough to handle them. The three of them managed to do enough damage to each other to get a bull on his beat to notice the tumult they were causing on the Brooklyn Bridge. When the sharp whistling permeated the air, Blue broke away first from the fray and fled the scene. Mimic and Hazard, shouting curses after his retreating back, turned too, before the clad-in-blue bull could get his tarrying hands on them.
Midnight threw a fit when they arrived. She couldn't be blamed. After all, two of her girls had arrived with bruises scattered all over their body after promising her that they were just 'going on a walk'. She rashly forbade all newsies to step into Brooklyn unless she sent them or unless she was with them. This imprisoned almost all of the Bronx newsies: most of them loved swimming on the Brooklyn piers or most of them had close friends that resided in the Lodging House. The atmosphere in the Lodging House became restless and uneasy.
Ethan, on the other hand, just as he was stepping off the boat, had no idea what had happened between Brooklyn and Bronx, and if he did know, he probably wouldn't have cared. Right now, all he was worried about was making sure that he made it to the hotel his father had told him to stay at until he arrived from Boston again. Then, the real vacation would begin.
His father was always like that. It didn't offend Ethan any because he knew the excuse was a good one. His mother, with her brown hair and cold, gray eyes, would be enough to keep him away from home too. Sure, she had a delicate, ethereal beauty that turned other people's heads on the street, but all she ever seemed to want to do was count her endless piles of money that she kept stashed away in her closet. Even during parties at other wealthy furnished houses, she never would enjoy herself. Instead, her gray eyes would start comparing the prices of their china vase to the china vase sitting on the mantel above the fireplace at home. If their vase was more expensive than hers, she would search for an even more extravagant vase at the most ludicrous prices, buy it, and then gloat upon it for at least a week. After a few months of taking his wife to his rich friends' houses, Ethan's father, Richard, soon quit at this attempt of bringing joy to his beautiful wife, understanding that if he didn't, he would end up broke and in the poorhouse.
Soon, Richard was always away on business trips, preferring to love his wife from afar. There, he could judge her objectively, and collect the only thing that Elizabeth required of him: more money.
The life Ethan lived was a lonely one. He had no siblings, no close family members (besides his father, who wrote him letters weekly so that he could get to know his only son), and no friends at all. His mother preferred to keep him under lock and key inside their mansion and she personally made sure that all the boys his age was kept away unless they were as rich as their family. As a result, most of Ethan's acquaintances were the snobby, spoiled kind.
Once, Ethan had complained to Carlotta about how quiet it was in the large mansion, and told her that he wished he had a little brother, or a little sister, or a little something to keep him company. The look on Carlotta's face turned from neutral to a fusion of pain, anger, and sorrow so swiftly that Ethan laughed uncomfortably and assured her he was just joking.
Well, he was glad that his father had talked his mother into letting him tag along to New York. It had been about time that he started seeing most of the world anyway.
Ethan looked around the tiny hotel room. For such a small space there was a huge fee. He shrugged smoothly. He didn't have to worry about spending money; his father had left plenty for him. For the rest of the afternoon, he decided, as he slid his suitcase underneath the bed and making sure it was hidden by the heavy quilt that draped over the bed and pooled to the floor, he would look around this beautiful city. He had never seen anything so diverse and so populated, and he had only got small glimpses through the carriage window he had called to convey him to the hotel. Now, he would explore this city thoroughly from end to end and force it to give up its secrets to him. Examining his reflection in the mirror (he was wearing a dark blue suit) he tried a desperate attempt at taming his mousy brown hair and sighed in exasperation as it once again flopped over his eyes. Finally, he tucked away the key that his grandfather had presented to him the year of his first birthday and exited the dwarfish room, locking the door behind him.
Blink wearily hawked the headlines of the last paper he held in his hand. It had never taken him this long to sell the papes. He tried another rendition of the worn-out headline and cursed when no one stopped, only stepped around him and gave him glances that basically meant, 'What are you still doing here, street trash?'
He raised his voice and tried again when someone walked by him mid-sentence and bumped him roughly.
"Sorry," the boy said in a thick English accent.
Blink swallowed his anger and turned away from the boy, shouting out the headline. His warm blue eye widened when he realized whom the boy looked like. "Spot?" he asked skeptically, pivoting to where the boy had been before. He had swiftly disappeared in the mass of bodies, and Blink had to fight his way against the crowd before he found him again.
"Spot!" he exclaimed triumphantly, placing a hand on his shoulder and spinning him around.
Ethan blinked his blue eyes and stared disbelievingly at the newsboy. "Excuse me?" he asked in that thick English accent.
"Spot, it's me, Blink," Blink said in reply to his confused stare. "Have you'se been drinkin' again?"
"Why are you calling me that? My name isn't Spot, it's Ethan."
"But it's you'se, Spot!" Blink laughed, like he had just got the meaning of a well-played joke. "I get it. You're messin' around wid me."
"No, I'm not," Ethan answered emphatically, "I have no idea who Spot is, all I know is that I'm not him."
"Shoah," Blink grinned widely, "and I suppose that there ain't a key around ya neck eiddah." His hand shot out and snatched up the concealed symbol that had become part of Spot's reputation.
"What are you doing?!" Ethan cried, tugging away backwards, almost snapping the string that held the precious key. "How did you know that was there?" No one could have known about that besides his family, and his family was miles away from here.
"C'mon, Spot!" Blink said with the same wide grin on his face. "I know it cuz you wear it all da time."
Ethan was suddenly afraid. He had no idea what this newsie was doing talking to him and how this newsie knew something so important about him. "Who is this Spot fellow?" he interrogated the patch-wearing boy.
"Ok, fine," Blink muttered. "Spot is da leadah of da Brooklyn newsies," he admitted resolutely.
"Where is Brooklyn?" Ethan inquired entirely too politely.
"It's ovah in dat direction, 'cross da bridge," Blink pointed, still playing along.
"Thank you," Ethan nodded his head and then quickly walked away in that direction. Within a few seconds he had vanished into the crowd.
Blink looked after him. The paper dropped from his hands and was instantly trampled by the passerby's. Ah, what was a penny worth anyways? It had taken a few more moments for it to work into Blink's brain that Spot had been wearing a suit. It had been navy-blue and looked as if it had been made of an expensive material.
Also, he hadn't been speaking with a Brooklyn accent. Brooklyn accents were rough and jagged. Spot's voice (at the moment) had been smooth and even, which was the complete opposite of his regular voice.
A little bit confused, and feeling that he should report this discovery to somebody who could make better sense of it than he could, Blink retraced his steps back to his selling post and then made his way back to the Lodging House, fighting against the swell of the crowd.
A few feet away from the door of the Lodging House, Blink was hit with a notion. The only reason that Spot would be acting this weird was because of Bronx. He was planning something against them. Propelled by this idea, he ran into the building and up the stairs, nearly colliding with Jack, who was leaning against the wall, relaxing.
"Heya, Blink. Whad's da rush?" Jack asked, carelessly.
"Guess what I just saw outside." Without waiting for an answer, Blink went on to describe the strange encounter he had had with the leader of Brooklyn. "He was wearin' a suit! A real expensive one, too...and he was speakin' widout his accent. He was talkin' really weird, now dat I t'ink 'bout it."
"Why are you so worked up about it?" Rook asked indifferently, running a hand through Jack's thick hair from where she was sitting. The mental picture that Blink painted was nothing at all like the short-tempered Spot. But then again, she had always known something was wrong with the vertically challenged rat.
"No, you don't get it!" Blink turned to her. "He could only be actin' weird ta---"
"He's plannin' sumptin' against Midnight." As usual, Jack was a step ahead and had interrupted Blink. Sighing, he slumped heavily against the wall. "I'm gonna have ta talk wid Spot when I'se see him," Jack muttered, mostly to himself. Once again, the burden of two partnerships was causing more stress than it was worth. Unseen by the others in the Lodging House, Rook patted his back in a gesture of comfort.
Ethan stopped in the middle of the street, oblivious to the curses that rang out behind him. He was absolutely certain that he had passed this building several times in the past hour. With rising hysteria, he realized that he had been going in circles and hadn't made it any further than this street. He destitutely admitted to himself that he had been horribly lost for about an hour, which was a blow to his already-suffering pride. He briefly considered asking for directions, but quickly ruled out that idea. He had no desire to replay what had happened with that patch-wearing newsie. That conversation had gotten him nowhere closer to Brooklyn, no matter how many times he thought about it. It was uncannily eerie. That newsie had really believed that he was this so-called 'Spot' the 'leader of Brooklyn'. Ethan was completely convinced that unless this Spot looked exactly like him, there was no reason to even start being confused. He was rich and English, which was an absolute antonym to being poor and American. Contemplating upon this a bit more, he turned down a different alley and tried to work his way out of the natural complexity that was the streets of New York.
"Luna," Mimic nudged the half-asleep girl that was perched on the edge of the roof next to her.
"Huh---what?" she blinked drowsily and would have fallen had Mimic not grabbed her.
"Look," she pointed out an expensively clad boy aimlessly wandering below them.
"Wondahful," Luna replied sardonically, "and be shoah ta wake me jist in case I miss da queen a England." So saying, she went back to drowsing sleepily. Ever since Midnight told them Brooklyn was off-limits, the days had gotten increasingly boring and uneventful. There were no more casual fist fights, clamorous poker games or exhausting swims at the piers. All they ever did nowadays was sit on the roof and talk or stay downstairs and sleep.
Mimic, exasperated, turned to the newsie beside her and pointed out the rich boy. "See dat, Batty?"
The newsboy was appropriately named. Whenever he was bored, angry, happy, or any other emotion, he seemed to go crazy. Afterwards, for a day, he would be totally subdued, and at first you thought that he felt ashamed at losing control. But the better you got to know him, you'd figure out it was because going crazy exhausted him.
"Yeah?" Batty ran a trembling hand through his dark hair.
"He's rich," Mimic stated the obvious.
"Yeah."
"He must be a snob."
Batty brightened as she noted this. "You know whad we could do?"
"We could leave him alone," Athena piped up from the shaded corner of the roof. She had fair skin and was already starting to sunburn. She hadn't noticed this, however, because she was engrossed in a book that she had bought from a pawn store.
"Aw, you're no fun," Mimic pouted. "Midnight's not even heah and we could use a lil fun. Let's go soak da snob."
"C'mon, let's go," Batty excitedly grabbed Mimic's hand, who grabbed Luna's hand and he tugged the two of them towards the half-open window that led down to the Bunk Room.
Athena sighed, marked her page in the book by inserting a newspaper bookmark and followed.
In the Bunk Room, the rest of the newsies, were engaged in different activities. The ones who could write were busily scribbling in journals, and the ones who could read were immersed in used books. The rest of them were playing card games right in the middle of the wooden floor.
"Hey, dere's a rich snob wandering outside ouah Lodging House right now," Mimic started.
"Tell it ta someone who cares," Pyro muttered as she threw a card down.
"As I was saying," Mimic threw an angry glare at the girl, who glared right back, "dere's a rich kid right outside. Let's go have a lil fun wid him."
Instantly, the word 'fun' had its desired effect on most of the lethargic newsies in the Bunk Room.
"Hell no," Snicker refused without hesitation.
"Yeah," Pyro agreed. "Midnight ain't even heah."
"Fo' God's sake," Hazard retorted, "dat's why we should do it! Evah since da fight wid Brooklyn, we've been stuck heah aftah we sell, day aftah day. Midnight's been up dere locked in her room, and dat gives us all a opportunity ta go out and have some fun instead of bein' stuck up in heah bored outta ouah minds!"
This outburst got murmured agreements from the rest of the newsies.
"Fine," Pyro shrugged as she put down another card. "Go git in trouble. I'se don't care."
"You don't care 'bout anything," Mimic said sharply.
"You ain't comin'?" Athena asked Snicker.
"Nope," she said adamantly, "go and have your 'fun'."
Athena seemed to consider this and then threw the book on her bed and plopped down next to the group playing with the cards. "Deal me in."
"Your loss," Hazard shrugged and accompanied the stream of newsies to the door. Batty and Mimic was at the head of the crowd and were the first to spot the expensively clad Ethan. His back was turned to them, and he was craning his neck, as if he were looking for a familiar face in the streets.
"Heya," Batty tapped Ethan on the shoulder. "Whatcha doin' heah, rich boy?"
"Are ya lost?" Mimic asked jokingly.
Ethan spun around on his heel. The Bronx newsies seemed to go in a state of shock when they realized who the 'rich snob' was. It happened to be Spot.
"Um...do you happen to know the way to Brooklyn?"
Now, this was even more shocking than the sight of Spot in a suit. Batty burst out laughing first, followed by Hazard, and soon the group of about 15 newsies was laughing uproariously. They had never heard Spot talk in such a snooty accent. Either it was all a joke or some crazy scheme...but whatever it was, they were going to get to the bottom of it.
Ethan stood frozen with a clueless and dazed look on his face. That wasn't exactly the reply he was expecting. "What's so funny?" he questioned a bit sheepishly. The sound of his British accent started the group laughing again, even louder than before. "I am honestly lost!" he exclaimed.
"Yeah right, Spot," Ring (another newsboy) chortled.
"No, honestly!"
"I suppose ya ain't Spot?" Mimic questioned, with a sneer spread on her lips.
"No, I am not." This elicited a little more laughter from the girls, but the boys had found it a little bit annoying. "I am lost. I'm from Britain. This one boy in Manhattan called me Spot too, and told me I could find him in Brooklyn. I seemed to have gotten a little lost, so I would like to get the directions from you and find this Spot fellow and smooth this out."
"Uh-huh," Batty crossed his arms, "shoah."
"It ain't funny anymore, Spot," Ring cut in, irritated.
"Stop calling me that!" Ethan demanded. "You don't even know my real name."
"Yes, we do, and it's Spot Conlon. Who happens to have been banned from da Bronx territory, which would mean dat if you don't git off it right now, we'll kick your ass." The boy who had uttered this, Bricks, was so named because he loved hitting people with them.
Ethan backed up slowly away from the Lodging House, towards a clothing store across the street. It seemed like this Spot fellow wasn't very popular at all. Ethan couldn't run; these newsies were fast runners and knew where they were going. When his back touched the wall of the clothing store, he turned his head from the advancing boys, scrunched his eyes closed tightly, and waited for the first blow to fall. He prayed that the people passing him by would stop the group of immature boys before they broke a few bones.
Batty clenched his right hand into a fist and got ready to punch Ethan, and hard. Vaguely, before he let his fist fly, he heard a muttered, "Shit," from behind him. He pivoted quickly, dropping his hand and unclenching his fingers.
Everyone seemed to have frozen with a look on their faces that was a mixture of shame and fear. Their heads were turned towards the Lodging House, and they looked absurdly like deer who had been spotted by hunters.
Midnight stormed across the street, walking briskly and ignoring the pain that came shooting from her stomach. Not even halfway there, she didn't waste any time as she started shouting at them. "Whad da hell do you'se t'ink you're doin', huh? I've nevah met such a bunch a damn idiots in my whole life! You wanna git put in da refuge, ya dumbasses?! Will someone please tell me whad you pinheaded people were doing?" She put a hand to her forehead and massaged between her temples, feeling a headache coming on. She still had not noticed the cowering Ethan. "I'se leave you guys alone for a few moments and you start harassing people in da street! How could ya do somethin' as narrow-minded as dat?!"
Throughout the whole tirade, a few of her newsies opened their mouths to speak but were cut off by her raving. Now, the newsies had lost their nerve and could do no more than exchange helpless glances.
"Well? Will someone please explain who got dis moronic idea in da foist place? I mean---" Midnight rattled on.
Mimic, prodded from behind by Hazard, squeaked and tried to explain. Before she could interrupt Midnight's flow of words, however, Ethan, did it faster.
"Your 'boys'," he spat out disgustedly, "were about to attack me."
"I am so sorry 'bout dat," Midnight apologized profusely, not taking her flaming eyes off of Batty, "and dey will be dealt wid shortly."
Mimic quickly spoke before Midnight could start ranting. "Look at his face, Midnight!" she nearly shouted.
Once again, she was too late. Midnight had already faced the boy and she was speechless and staring, shock visible on her face.
Taking courage in the silence, Hazard said, "If dat ain't Spot, you can shoot us."
"Yeah. We thought he was spyin' on us," Batty said.
Luna, who had been silent through the whole thing nodded emphatically. "Midnight, look at him. He was obviously plannin' somethin'!"
Midnight was oblivious to what her newsies were saying. For some strange reason, she knew it wasn't Spot standing before her. He was more than two inches taller than her, and there was just something about the eyes...they weren't glacial or icy. They were the complete opposite. Ethan didn't move as she scrutinized him. The only part of him that moved was his warm blue eyes as he, in turn, studied her too.
Finally, Midnight whispered, "No, you ain't Spot at all." To which Ethan inhaled in relief and slumped against the wall of the clothing store. She approached him, enclosed his wrist in her hand and tugged him across the street and into the Lodging House. She blatantly ignored the protests of her newsies as she slammed the wooden door closed. She dragged him up the stairs and past the Bunk Room, where Pyro, Athena and Snicker were still enthralled in their card game. They didn't notice as Midnight stamped past the open door with a Spot look-alike in tow.
"Wonder whad's happenin' ta dat poor rich boy down dere," Athena mused after a moment.
"He's prolly called da bulls on all a dem, and we'll hafta break 'em outta da Refuge," Pyro answered absentmindedly.
"Jist da four of us?" Snicker asked dubiously as she laid down her hand. "Two kings."
Safe within the confines of her room, Midnight released Ethan's wrist. Then, taking two deep breaths to calm herself, she faced the bewildered boy. "Who are you?" she bluntly asked. As Ethan opened her mouth to reply, she shook her head. "Nevah mind dat. You're prolly wonderin' why everyone's callin' you Spot, right? He's a boy up in Brooklyn, and you look exactly like him." In a corner of her mind, a little bit of doubt was still hovering. If this was really Spot standing here in front of her, making a huge fool out of her and her newsies, she wouldn't hesitate to beat his face in.
Outside, all the newsies were standing in the same places that Midnight had left them, confused and dazed. Finally, Luna asked the question that was haunting all of them. "What the hell just happened?"
"You know, it's really uncanny. You look exactly like him. Well, 'cept you're taller, and..." Midnight stopped there. She almost blushed, in fact, and briefly wondered why she was being so shy.
Ethan didn't notice how she paused and nodded. "A lot of people thought I was him." Then, he ruefully chuckled. "Not everyone seems to be fond of him, huh?"
"You have no idea," Midnight grumbled underneath her breath. She inhaled sharply and turned away from him to glance out the window. The sun was already setting. "Listen, you can't git ta Brooklyn now. It's too late." As if to prove this, she nodded at the setting sun.
Of course, he had no idea she was lying through her teeth. The Bronx bordered Brooklyn, and it would have taken only 15 minutes to get to the Brooklyn Lodging House.
"It ain't safe to go walkin' around today. Jist stay heah and tomorrow I'll go find Spot, arrite?" The moment she uttered this, Midnight asked herself what was wrong with her. She had no intention of even finding Spot or talking to him. And why did she insist he stay here at the Lodging House and not leave the Bronx? After a moment's deliberation, she shrugged the confusion off and told herself it was because she didn't want to be responsible for him if anything bad happened to him as he wandered around Brooklyn. After all, Spot would stoop so low to soak his look-alike for being impudent to him.
The sun dipped below the horizon, and soon night drew its curtain across New York.
When morning came, Midnight escorted Ethan back to his hotel. As he opened the door, he turned back to her. "Will you find Spot for me?"
Before she could stop her tongue, she said foolishly, "I promise."
He beamed, nodded politely at her and then disappeared into the building.
When the door closed, Midnight proceeded to beat her head upon it and cursed herself. She had promised him something she would never do. Still angry with herself, she walked away from the building, feeling the rays of the sun warm her neck.
Midnight returned in the evening and walked into the hotel lobby, a lie already formulated in her mind. "May I go ta see Ethan, please?" she politely inquired. The man at the desk glanced down at her and shook his head disgustedly.
"What would he want with a street rat like you," he didn't ask this, but rather stated it like it was a fact.
"I have great need of her," a voice from behind her made her whirl around. Ethan was sitting at the foot of the stairs, an annoyed look on his face. "And another thing. The next time someone comes around looking for me, you're to let them see me."
"Oh...fine," the man stuttered and waved his hand imperiously.
Ethan rolled his eyes and ascended the stairs, followed closely by Midnight. He didn't even wait to get to his room. He turned to her and asked with urgency, "Have you found him?"
"Uh...no," Midnight replied, her eyes cast to the floor. "Apparently, he's been gone and should be back in a week or so." She didn't even mention the important fact that Spot was the Brooklyn leader or that she was in a fight with him.
Ethan sighed, shook his head and plodded along to his room disappointedly. "Want to come inside for a few minutes?" he asked dejectedly.
Midnight briefly considered the question for a moment, but then decided not to. The secrecy was too much for her to handle, and she would probably blurt out something that would destroy the lie she had just told him. Plus, the pressure of the Brooklyn feud and keeping this boy safe was tearing her up inside.
"All right. I'll see you next week, then?" Ethan questioned.
"Wait." Midnight put her hand up. She had decided that it would be better if she had told someone who could help her out. Her mind flew straight to Jack. "I t'ink we should go see a friend a mine who could help ya find Spot."
The cold night caused Midnight to shiver. Walking along to the Manhattan Lodging House, the both of them made small talk on the furthest things from their mind.
Ethan was wondering to himself why it was so important to him to find Spot only because people have been telling him he looks exactly like him.
And Midnight, though she wasn't showing it, was extremely nervous. Too late, she discovered that she should have just confided in Enchanted and left the whole matter unknown to Jack. She contemplated over turning back, but she knew that Ethan would protest. Besides, it wasn't her style to back out of something because she was nervous. The Manhattan Lodging House was already in sight, so she couldn't just tell him that it was too late in the night to go any further.
As they walked along, Midnight saw something that made her blood run cold. She halted in her tracks without giving a warning to Ethan who collided into her from behind.
Posted outside the Lodging House were Blue, Cynic, and Tiger, boys that were inseparable from Spot.
"What's---" Ethan started, but Midnight raised a hand to shush him. She prayed they would go away, prayed more than she ever had in her life, but her hopes were squashed as she heard a loud voice from the upstairs window. She instantly recognized it as Spot's voice.
"Shit," she ducked down instinctively, and motioned for Ethan to follow her into an alley. He followed without asking any questions, something she would thank him for later. The alley was at the side of the Lodging House and there was a fire escape placed conveniently at the end of the alley that led right up to the window where the shouting was coming from.
Ethan crept along behind her, a thousand questions flooding to his lips, but the way Midnight was leading him along somehow told him that he would have to ask her later, when they could walk normally again.
Midnight signaled Ethan to crouch down by the bottom of the fire escape and wait as she ascended the steps slowly. She didn't have to strain to hear any of the words; the whole side of Manhattan could hear it without trying to. She didn't hear one word from Jack, however, and felt a twinge of pity for him. He couldn't get one word in edgewise, probably, at the speed Spot was going. She closed her eyes, gathered her courage and slowly peeked through the window.
The first thing she saw was Jack, facing her, but not noticing her. He looked ill at ease, and as if he was at a loss for words. In front of him, Spot paced back and forth, his can gripped in one hand and his other hand tightened in a fist. The look on his face was savage, and his glacial eyes were filled with a wild animalistic manner. He looked ready to kill something.
Behind Jack, Midnight could see the rest of the Manhattan newsies clustered together in a corner. Most of them didn't seem to move, except for Enchanted, who was scoffing softly underneath her breath at whatever absurd thing that Spot was saying, and Race, who was trying in vain to get her to shut up.
"If my sources inform me dat Midnight's been seen wandering around in Manhattan territory wid me, den she's wondering around in Manhattan territory, jist not wid me! Arrite?! I don't care whad da hell da excuse is, I'se want ya to find her da next time she's heah and beat one out of her! I want da situation taken care of!" Spot ignored the blank look that Jack was giving him and the glare that Enchanted was shooting at him.
Midnight could have stayed there and listened all night, but she realized with a start that Ethan was still at the bottom of the fire escape, listening too. Not needing to see anymore she ducked back down underneath the windowsill and listened for five more minutes until she crawled along the bottom of the window and then descended the stairs quickly. Still silent, she motioned Ethan to follow along behind her.
Yet as she turned to start walking, someone placed a rough hand on her shoulder...
~*~
