CHAPTER 2:
Spot watched his newsies lazily. Finished with selling their papers, all the boys were taking advantage of the bright sunshine. They swarmed around the docks, swimming and generally creating an uproar. Might as well see how Jacky-boy's doin', Spot thought, jumping down from his pier. He made his way towards a boy with blonde hair and blue eyes about to dive into the water.
"Heya, Spinz." Spot smirked as the newsie spun around, lost his balance, and fell into the water. Spinz came up sputtering with his face flaming. He quickly pulled himself out of the water, "Yeah, Spot?"
"I'm goin' ta Manhattan. Yer in charge." With that, Spot left the dripping second-in-command and headed towards Manhattan.
~*~*~*~*~
Michaela decided that someone must have been behind her, scaring all the boys off. Funny dat I didn't see him, she shook her head to clear it. Oh, well. It doesn't mattah. Her mind wandered again, curious about what had happened. She particularly remembered the boy saying, "Of coise, Spot."
Where have I hoid dat before??? Michaela thought back, rummaging through her memories.
"Wait for me, Michael!" Michaela tucked up her dress and darted after her brother.
"Isn't that your new dress? Mother doesn't want you to get it dirty." Michael eyed the pink gingham dress dubiously.
"Yes, but I've got other dresses, she'll never notice one missing. Besides, I hate pink. C'mon! We're missing the game." The two children ran over to the group of kids waiting for them.
"Michael, you can't bring your sister. She's a girl," the kid in front of them protested. The rest of the children nodded.
Michael looked at them angrily, even though he was only six, and they were several years older than him. "She's my sister, she goes where I go." His ice-blue eyes stared coldly at them, daring them to refuse his sister.
The boys all looked down at their shoes. "Oh, um… of course, Michael. Sorry."
Ugghhh, why is everyt'in' suddenly remindin' me of him??? Usually dis doesn't happen. Michaela took a deep breath in to calm the uneasy feeling settling in the pit of her stomach.
Hmmm, I wonder who Spot is though…
She was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn't notice the boy until she knocked into him. Her head jerked up and she saw a tall, brown- haired newsie in front of her. His arm was bandaged up and she could see a bit of dried blood on the cloth. He was looking down at her sourly, but when she tilted her face into the light, he went pale.
"Spot! Um..." He quickly covered his arm and smiled brightly at her. "It's nothing, really. I…um, knocked myself down while sellin', and hit my arm."
Michaela stared at him wondering if he was insane, and raised an eyebrow.
Another boy joined them nervously. He was slightly shorter than the first boy and had bleached blonde hair, but was just as pale. "I saw it happen Spot. Really. Nothin' ta get alarmed 'bout. Clips is fine." Suddenly, he turned whiter and touched his eye. Michaela spared a glance at the rather large gash right underneath his eye and narrowed her eyes at him. What's goin' on? Why do dey t'ink I care about dis?
"Oh, um, I ran into a wall. But we're fine now." Both boys looked at her pleadingly, as if begging her to forgive them.
Michaela rolled her eyes. Awright, fine. Dis is so obviously a bunch of lies, but I'll go along wit' it. "It's okay. I don't care. Really." They sighed, relieved.
"Well, den we'll see youse later."
Michaela watched them go. Okay, now dat was really weird.
~*~*~*~
Spot stepped into Tibby's and walked over to the booth that Jack and several other newsies were sitting talking. "Heya, boys," he slid in beside Race, while everyone greeted him.
"What brings ya ta dese parts?" Jack asked, busy trying to order his food.
"Nothin'. Jist t'ought I'd come and see youse all. So, what's happenin'?"
"Oh, hold on. Do ya want anything, Spot?" Jack asked, turning from the waiter.
"No, I'm not hungry."
Kid Blink grinned at Spot and waved his free hand at Race. "Race heah lost all his money at da racetrack and is tryin' ta get us ta pay fer his lunch."
Spot shrugged. "What else is new?"
~*~*~*~*~
Michaela wandered throughout the streets of Brooklyn and sighed. Well, now what? She walked by a bakery and stopped to smell the breads. Dey sure smell delicious. Lunchtime. Michaela surveyed the people rushing about until she spotted an ideal man. Brushing expertly past him, she swiped a handful of change from his pocket, and strode towards the door of a bakery.
A little while later, she came out with two rolls of bread. Biting into one, she walked down the street. All right, now I'm refreshed. Time fer a swim. By the time she reached the docks, she had finished one roll, and was halfway through the other.
A boy with blonde hair ran up to her right as she was licking her fingers. "Spot! Clips and Kix told me dat youse knew 'bout deir wounds. I knew da entire time, and I just didn't want ta worry youse. I really am sorry."
Heah we'se go again. "It's okay, jist…um,"
What am I supposed ta say? "Jist don't do it again."
Now go away, please?
"Ok....um, thanks. Oh, look I gotta go." The boy trotted off. A short kid walked (or strutted, whichever way you want to put it) up to her.
"Heya, Spot. Ya know, youse ain't supposed ta know dis, but seein' how we're such good chums an' all, I t'ought it was my duty ta tell youse-"
"Look, um…uh…"
"Loudmouth, remember?"
"Yeah, well, I don't have time ta talk right now, sorry." Michaela walked quickly away from him. Now dis is startin' ta get on my nerves.
"Spot!" Michaela groaned and put her head down. She broke into a fast walk, just as two boys reached her. "Spot, da Delanceys are here, can we soak 'em?"
"YES! I mean, uh, sure, go ahead." Michaela ran away from them. Suddenly, she seemed surrounded by boys and realized she was on the docks. NO!!! I can't get away!
"Heya, Spot!" Be quiet, she thought bitterly.
"How ya doin' Spot?" Terrible.
"Whatcha runnin' from?" You.
"Look, Spot, my eye got bruised when Spinz ran up to me and accidentally knocked my eye wit' his um, elbow. So do ya know where Doc is?" No, I don't even know who he is.
I wish dey would just shut up, all of dem.
"Oh, if it isn't the famous Spot Conlon. The one and only." Sarcasm is da lowest form of humor.
"Do youse want us to beat dese Delanceys," one of the boys, Spinz, I t'ink, said, jerking his head at the two sarcastic ones, "clear back inta Manhattan?" Yes, and while your at it, get rid of everyone else, too.
"Oh, Spot, we just came to see you, seein' as youse is so famous."
Finally, Michaela had had it. She looked up at them all, blue-gray eyes glinting dangerously. Most of the newsies took a few steps backwards from the look in her eyes. She took a step closer to them threateningly. "Look, I'm sick and tired of youse all talkin' ta me. I don't care. I DON'T CARE!!! DON'T TALK TO ME ANYMORE! NONE OF YOUSE! EVER!!!"
The newsies all looked at her wide-eyed, and opened their mouths, seemed to think better of it, and nodded their heads emphatically. The two boys called the Delanceys looked at each other and began to walk away hurriedly.
Michaela looked at them triumphantly and turned around calmly. Dis place is unnerving me. I am definitely heading ta Manhattan. Hopefully I'll get dere before it's too dark and den I'll stay dere for awhile.
~*~*~*~
Spot stood up. "Well, I better leave ya ta yer papes." He smirked teasingly and said, with the utmost contempt, "Coise, Jacky-boy, if youse were faster, youse could be done by now. Ya know, like me." Spot Conlon ducked the newspaper thrown in his direction and headed out the doorway.
Spot walked down the street, chuckling to himself. Out of habit, when he passed by the blacksmith's, he stopped and looked inside, watching the huge man bent over the table. Boy, that man almost looks like Dad.
Michaela and Michael walked into their father's workshop with his lunch. Jake Conlon was a blacksmith, and loved his work so much he often didn't come home to eat. Sometimes, their mother would send them with food so he wouldn't starve himself.
Michaela nudged her brother. "There he is!"
"I know, I see him, 'chaela."
"Daddy!!" They ran towards him, excitedly. A tall, thin man turned around, startled. He put down what he was working on and sighed.
"What did I tell you two last time you were here?" He asked, accepting the basket of food.
"That this was no place for seven-year old children." The twins quoted from memory together.
"Yes," he gave them a hug, "Now run along."
Their father turned back to his work at the anvil. They began to walk away, but Michael turned to look back. Flying sparks were everywhere, and he walked closer to see what his dad was working on. Nothing but a boring old piece of metal. Michael started back towards his sister, when suddenly something hot and sharp sliced through the skin on his ankle.
"OWWWWW!!!" His father spun around. Michaela screamed and ran to her brother's side.
"Your bleeding, Michael!" She stared in horror at the bloody line running from one side of his ankle to the other. Their father dropped to his knees and picked him up.
"Michaela, I'm taking Michael to the doctor, tell your mother." Michaela jumped up and ran out of the room, just as Michael passed out.
Spot was pulled from his reverie by the man yelling at him. "Get outta here! Don't you kids know, your not allowed in here! You'll destroy everyt'in'!"
Spot watched his newsies lazily. Finished with selling their papers, all the boys were taking advantage of the bright sunshine. They swarmed around the docks, swimming and generally creating an uproar. Might as well see how Jacky-boy's doin', Spot thought, jumping down from his pier. He made his way towards a boy with blonde hair and blue eyes about to dive into the water.
"Heya, Spinz." Spot smirked as the newsie spun around, lost his balance, and fell into the water. Spinz came up sputtering with his face flaming. He quickly pulled himself out of the water, "Yeah, Spot?"
"I'm goin' ta Manhattan. Yer in charge." With that, Spot left the dripping second-in-command and headed towards Manhattan.
~*~*~*~*~
Michaela decided that someone must have been behind her, scaring all the boys off. Funny dat I didn't see him, she shook her head to clear it. Oh, well. It doesn't mattah. Her mind wandered again, curious about what had happened. She particularly remembered the boy saying, "Of coise, Spot."
Where have I hoid dat before??? Michaela thought back, rummaging through her memories.
"Wait for me, Michael!" Michaela tucked up her dress and darted after her brother.
"Isn't that your new dress? Mother doesn't want you to get it dirty." Michael eyed the pink gingham dress dubiously.
"Yes, but I've got other dresses, she'll never notice one missing. Besides, I hate pink. C'mon! We're missing the game." The two children ran over to the group of kids waiting for them.
"Michael, you can't bring your sister. She's a girl," the kid in front of them protested. The rest of the children nodded.
Michael looked at them angrily, even though he was only six, and they were several years older than him. "She's my sister, she goes where I go." His ice-blue eyes stared coldly at them, daring them to refuse his sister.
The boys all looked down at their shoes. "Oh, um… of course, Michael. Sorry."
Ugghhh, why is everyt'in' suddenly remindin' me of him??? Usually dis doesn't happen. Michaela took a deep breath in to calm the uneasy feeling settling in the pit of her stomach.
Hmmm, I wonder who Spot is though…
She was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn't notice the boy until she knocked into him. Her head jerked up and she saw a tall, brown- haired newsie in front of her. His arm was bandaged up and she could see a bit of dried blood on the cloth. He was looking down at her sourly, but when she tilted her face into the light, he went pale.
"Spot! Um..." He quickly covered his arm and smiled brightly at her. "It's nothing, really. I…um, knocked myself down while sellin', and hit my arm."
Michaela stared at him wondering if he was insane, and raised an eyebrow.
Another boy joined them nervously. He was slightly shorter than the first boy and had bleached blonde hair, but was just as pale. "I saw it happen Spot. Really. Nothin' ta get alarmed 'bout. Clips is fine." Suddenly, he turned whiter and touched his eye. Michaela spared a glance at the rather large gash right underneath his eye and narrowed her eyes at him. What's goin' on? Why do dey t'ink I care about dis?
"Oh, um, I ran into a wall. But we're fine now." Both boys looked at her pleadingly, as if begging her to forgive them.
Michaela rolled her eyes. Awright, fine. Dis is so obviously a bunch of lies, but I'll go along wit' it. "It's okay. I don't care. Really." They sighed, relieved.
"Well, den we'll see youse later."
Michaela watched them go. Okay, now dat was really weird.
~*~*~*~
Spot stepped into Tibby's and walked over to the booth that Jack and several other newsies were sitting talking. "Heya, boys," he slid in beside Race, while everyone greeted him.
"What brings ya ta dese parts?" Jack asked, busy trying to order his food.
"Nothin'. Jist t'ought I'd come and see youse all. So, what's happenin'?"
"Oh, hold on. Do ya want anything, Spot?" Jack asked, turning from the waiter.
"No, I'm not hungry."
Kid Blink grinned at Spot and waved his free hand at Race. "Race heah lost all his money at da racetrack and is tryin' ta get us ta pay fer his lunch."
Spot shrugged. "What else is new?"
~*~*~*~*~
Michaela wandered throughout the streets of Brooklyn and sighed. Well, now what? She walked by a bakery and stopped to smell the breads. Dey sure smell delicious. Lunchtime. Michaela surveyed the people rushing about until she spotted an ideal man. Brushing expertly past him, she swiped a handful of change from his pocket, and strode towards the door of a bakery.
A little while later, she came out with two rolls of bread. Biting into one, she walked down the street. All right, now I'm refreshed. Time fer a swim. By the time she reached the docks, she had finished one roll, and was halfway through the other.
A boy with blonde hair ran up to her right as she was licking her fingers. "Spot! Clips and Kix told me dat youse knew 'bout deir wounds. I knew da entire time, and I just didn't want ta worry youse. I really am sorry."
Heah we'se go again. "It's okay, jist…um,"
What am I supposed ta say? "Jist don't do it again."
Now go away, please?
"Ok....um, thanks. Oh, look I gotta go." The boy trotted off. A short kid walked (or strutted, whichever way you want to put it) up to her.
"Heya, Spot. Ya know, youse ain't supposed ta know dis, but seein' how we're such good chums an' all, I t'ought it was my duty ta tell youse-"
"Look, um…uh…"
"Loudmouth, remember?"
"Yeah, well, I don't have time ta talk right now, sorry." Michaela walked quickly away from him. Now dis is startin' ta get on my nerves.
"Spot!" Michaela groaned and put her head down. She broke into a fast walk, just as two boys reached her. "Spot, da Delanceys are here, can we soak 'em?"
"YES! I mean, uh, sure, go ahead." Michaela ran away from them. Suddenly, she seemed surrounded by boys and realized she was on the docks. NO!!! I can't get away!
"Heya, Spot!" Be quiet, she thought bitterly.
"How ya doin' Spot?" Terrible.
"Whatcha runnin' from?" You.
"Look, Spot, my eye got bruised when Spinz ran up to me and accidentally knocked my eye wit' his um, elbow. So do ya know where Doc is?" No, I don't even know who he is.
I wish dey would just shut up, all of dem.
"Oh, if it isn't the famous Spot Conlon. The one and only." Sarcasm is da lowest form of humor.
"Do youse want us to beat dese Delanceys," one of the boys, Spinz, I t'ink, said, jerking his head at the two sarcastic ones, "clear back inta Manhattan?" Yes, and while your at it, get rid of everyone else, too.
"Oh, Spot, we just came to see you, seein' as youse is so famous."
Finally, Michaela had had it. She looked up at them all, blue-gray eyes glinting dangerously. Most of the newsies took a few steps backwards from the look in her eyes. She took a step closer to them threateningly. "Look, I'm sick and tired of youse all talkin' ta me. I don't care. I DON'T CARE!!! DON'T TALK TO ME ANYMORE! NONE OF YOUSE! EVER!!!"
The newsies all looked at her wide-eyed, and opened their mouths, seemed to think better of it, and nodded their heads emphatically. The two boys called the Delanceys looked at each other and began to walk away hurriedly.
Michaela looked at them triumphantly and turned around calmly. Dis place is unnerving me. I am definitely heading ta Manhattan. Hopefully I'll get dere before it's too dark and den I'll stay dere for awhile.
~*~*~*~
Spot stood up. "Well, I better leave ya ta yer papes." He smirked teasingly and said, with the utmost contempt, "Coise, Jacky-boy, if youse were faster, youse could be done by now. Ya know, like me." Spot Conlon ducked the newspaper thrown in his direction and headed out the doorway.
Spot walked down the street, chuckling to himself. Out of habit, when he passed by the blacksmith's, he stopped and looked inside, watching the huge man bent over the table. Boy, that man almost looks like Dad.
Michaela and Michael walked into their father's workshop with his lunch. Jake Conlon was a blacksmith, and loved his work so much he often didn't come home to eat. Sometimes, their mother would send them with food so he wouldn't starve himself.
Michaela nudged her brother. "There he is!"
"I know, I see him, 'chaela."
"Daddy!!" They ran towards him, excitedly. A tall, thin man turned around, startled. He put down what he was working on and sighed.
"What did I tell you two last time you were here?" He asked, accepting the basket of food.
"That this was no place for seven-year old children." The twins quoted from memory together.
"Yes," he gave them a hug, "Now run along."
Their father turned back to his work at the anvil. They began to walk away, but Michael turned to look back. Flying sparks were everywhere, and he walked closer to see what his dad was working on. Nothing but a boring old piece of metal. Michael started back towards his sister, when suddenly something hot and sharp sliced through the skin on his ankle.
"OWWWWW!!!" His father spun around. Michaela screamed and ran to her brother's side.
"Your bleeding, Michael!" She stared in horror at the bloody line running from one side of his ankle to the other. Their father dropped to his knees and picked him up.
"Michaela, I'm taking Michael to the doctor, tell your mother." Michaela jumped up and ran out of the room, just as Michael passed out.
Spot was pulled from his reverie by the man yelling at him. "Get outta here! Don't you kids know, your not allowed in here! You'll destroy everyt'in'!"
