Star light/ star bright/ first star I see tonight/ I wish I may/ I wish I might/ have this wish I wish tonight.
I wish I owned Newsies………
So there's going to be a rally. Everyone crammed together at Irving Hall. I hope Jack knows what he's doing, but I trust him. I'd rather he make the decisions, anyway. I guess I'm just not the leader type.
Spot's was in one of his moods again tonight. He hadn't tried to bring it up, and wouldn't answer my questions. I decided I had to do something, so I went over and asked him straight out what was wrong. He didn't tell me anything. Really, what did I expect? This is Spot Conlon I'm talking to. Did I really believe that he would confide in me? He'd rather waste away, locked inside himself.
Suddenly, everything fell into place. How depressed he was, wary, withdrawn. The time he would spend alone on the roof or in the bathroom. The long sleeved shirts. How he kept his hands in his pockets all the time. My stomach sank.
"Spot. Let me see your hands." I knew from the look in his eyes that I was right. Still, I prayed that I'd made some mistake, that something in my figuring was wrong.
But there they were, undeniable, in front of my eyes. Scars. Got, there were so many of them. I was in shock. I didn't know if I wanted to cry or be sick or hit him….
I hugged him. I can't really remember what I did, but I know he wouldn't tell me anything. My mind was reeling. I couldn't accept this, I couldn't understand.
But now that I think about it, I can understand. Not why he did it, I doubt I'll ever understand that, but I think I understand how he could do it.
After all, this is Spot Conlon.