Past Secrets and Present Times
Chapter 26
By Megan
A/N: Oh my God, I can't believe the reviews I got for the last chapter. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, and to those of you who think I won't have chapters up as much I'm still gonna try hard to get at least one chapter up a week. But ya hafta know it's hard 'cause I have guard practice every Tuesday, Wednesday and either Thursday or Friday, then I work on weekends. But I am working hard on this story. I promise.
Katie: Thanks so much.
Moon*Star: More is here, finally, and coming faster, I promise.
Pina: It sux, yep that sums it up but I have to go to school **sticks pins into voodoo doll of principal** school and work take time from my wonderful computer.
Chachi: Trying to e-mail you I've just been busy. Dave, Specs, Dutchy, Spot, Skittery, Jack, Mush, Kid Blink, Race, and Snoddy are taken. So far everyone else is free.
Splash: Of course I killed Mitchell. It's like an unwritten rule that I've gotta kill off a person a story.
Lange: Thank you so much for your review. I think it was the longest one I've ever had. Both your stories by the way I read and loved. I'm so glad you have learned of the sexiness that is Specs, and realized I don't hate Spot. I'm really trying to be nicer to him. I'd be honored to be on your fav. Lists. Again, thanks for that review. I was sorta depressed and it made my day.
* * *
Kloppman approached the bunkroom around midnight to check on the boys. He, of course, knew about the fight, and hadn't tried to stop them because he knew he couldn't. He had, however, expected the bunkroom to be full of noise and activity when they got back. That had not been the case. They'd brought back the missing newsies, including Specs, who had carried Hotshot in later than the others. That was one thing he never expected to see. The fact that Hotshot let anyone carry her amazed him. When the group of seven had gone upstairs he'd counted down in his head, but the talking never started. The most he'd heard had been a yell or two that had, immediately, been silenced by a million whispers of complaint.
He was in the room now, looking over them. Not only his own boys and Brooklyn's, but new ones as well. They occupied every bed and there were two boys in many of them. He looked over those who had been taken, and thankfully, returned. Les was asleep in his brother's arms. Thankfully, there wasn't even a bruise on him. Bumlets was the sole owner of one of the top bunks. He, unlike Les, had fought and had bruises and cuts to show for it. There was one long cut across his jaw that was going to leave a scar. He'd probably make up some story to go with it too. Specs took him a while to find. He finally found him sitting on Hotshot's bunk. The old man shook his head finding he'd fallen asleep against the frame. He was going to be sore the next morning, but he'd get over it quick enough.
Other than the snores of a few the room was completely silent and every newsie was asleep. That was a first. He turned and retreated from the room, deciding, against his better judgment, to wait until the next day to find out what had happened.
* * *
The first thing she realized in the morning was the pain in her arm. Then she realized that she was very uncomfortable. The room was completely lit and completely silent. Hotshot groaned to herself, she knew the guys meant well letting her sleep in, but really wanted to get herself up and selling as mush as possible.
Hotshot pushed herself up into a sitting position, despite the vigorous protest of her many aches and pains. She nearly jumped when she found Specs sitting on the end of her bed. He was sitting up against the frame with his feet stretched out along the edge of the bed. Hotshot reached out and shook his shoulder, "Specs, wake up."
He jumped in surprise, probably at the sound of her voice as well as being woken up, and fell onto the floor with a resounding smack.
Hotshot leaned forward, putting a hand over her mouth to try to contain her laughter. Her task became even harder as he groaned from his position on the floor. A laugh escaped her lips and fits of it made her shoulders shake.
"It wasn't finny," Specs complained, trying to be serious as he pulled himself into a sitting position.
She looked at him and just laughed harder. His glasses sat crookedly on his face and hair was disheveled. "What would I do without you, Specs?"
"Not a hell of a lot," a loud, sarcastic voice interrupted from the doorway.
"Race," she said, glancing down at Specs' pocket watch, "What are you doin' back. It ain't even ten yet."
He looked at her like she had just sprouted another head, "Are ya crazy? No one went sellin' taday."
She groaned as Specs pulled himself into a standing position, rubbing a hand wearily through his hair. "Why on earth not?" he asked
"They wanna hear what happened," Hotshot slid out of her bed and trekked to the bathroom, where she splashed her face with cold water to wake herself up. After that she went down to the common room of sorts where the fireplace, as well as some chairs and tables were always set up. She could hear them all talking as she stood in front of the closed door.
"Did it ever occur to any a you that maybe she doesn't wanna talk about what happened?" Bumlets shouted at them as she slid the door open a crack. Everyone was focusing their attention on him so much they didn't notice.
"Why wouldn't she?" Royal yelled, "She killed the most feared newsie in New York, well except for Spot!"
"'Cause she didn't wanna hafta kill 'im," Specs interrupted, "It's gonna be hard for her to tell about how she killed someone!"
It was then that a few of them noticed her standing inside the now fully opened doors.
"Heya killa!" Scruff yelled as she reached the center of the room, preparing to take a seat.
She felt her face growing red with anger and turned on him. She grabbed the older boy by the front of his shirt and got up into his face, "Don't you ever call me that again, Scruff."
"Take it easy Hotshot," Spot peeled her grip off of Scruffs shirt.
"I didn't wanna kill 'im Spot!" she turned to her old leader, "All I wanted was for him to get out of New York and not come back. I got him pinned and told him to leave but he used it to trick me. If Specs hadn't a had my knife he woulda killed me. Wait a minute, Specs, I thought you gave my knife to one of your friends?"
Specs nodded, "I did, Bumlets."
"Like I was sayin' Spot I tried to let him live but he just wouldn't give up…"
"Hotshot," Spot stopped her from saying anymore, "It's alright that you killed him. It was in self defense, ya hear me, if you hadn't fought him he woulda killed the three of them." He pointed to where Les, Bumlets, and Specs were sitting. "He was obsessed with beating youse Shot," he used the nickname only he called her, and even he hadn't called her that in a long time, "He was insane and woulda tried to kill you again an' again until he died. You got that?"
She was beginning to realize what Spot meant, and realizing that it was true. She nodded, "Thanks Spottie."
He bristled and a few of his newsies snickered. A glare from him silenced them quick enough. "So Hotshot, you wanna tell us what happened."
She sighed, but was smiling inwardly; boys will be boys after all. Most of them gathered closely around as she started her story, with help from those that were there. Unlike many of the other newsies would have she didn't change any parts of her story; instead keeping it one hundred percent true.
When she was released from the boys' questions she took a walk to another part of Manhattan, to an inevitable place. Denton's apartment. He answered a few seconds after she knocked. "Oh, Brooke, I was wondering when you w- My God, what happened to you?" He'd started the conversation off normally and changed mid-way through when he noticed the black eye, bruises, and bandages.
"We need to talk Denton. Can I come in?"
He immediately let her in and the two of them sat down at the table. They sat in silence for a few minutes, waiting for Hotshot to start speaking. "I killed a man Denton," she finally started.
"You what?" He didn't sound surprised, but at the same time he did.
"Do you remember Mitchell?"
Denton nodded.
"Well he's been set on fighting me for a while. He kidnapped Les, then Bumlets, then Specs. One of his guys delivered me some of their stuff and a note from him. It said that I had to meet him at some warehouse or he'd kill them. We'd fight to the death. If he won he'd kill them and me, an' if I won we could leave. His newsies wanted out of his power so they helped me by letting Spot and some of the others in after the fight started. We still had to fight though. I pinned him and told him to get out of New York or I'd kill him. When I got up he dislocated my left shoulder and pinned me. He was gonna hit me over the head with a crowbar, but Specs threw me my knife…" She sighed, "…And I killed him."
Denton had sat very quietly through her entire story, "Other injuries?"
"Some scratches and stuff. They might leave a few scars but I'll live. Specs helped me with my arm."
Denton winced, knowing what she meant, and shuddered at the thought. "The police have been having some trouble with him over the past several years, basically since Spot became leader."
"I don't understand."
"James Mitchell killed several people after Spot kicked him out of the Brooklyn group. He injured plenty of others and has committed a number of other crimes. Every time he eludes the police. He was under a strict protection contract when he appeared for your trial. If someone left an anonymous tip with the police and they found his body it would just save them a room in the state penitentiary for however long he would have lived. You pretty much just took care of him earlier."
She nodded in understanding.
Denton picked up the telephone and dialed a number, "Hello, Officer Davis. This is Brian Denton of the New York Sun. I have just received a tip from one of my clients that James Mitchell was killed. Yes, the one that committed all those crimes. He is in a warehouse in Brooklyn." He continued with specific directions. "The name of the person who told me, I'm sorry, but that information is confidential. Thank you. Goodbye." He hung up the phone.
Hotshot sat there grinning; "I take it you've done that before."
"Several times," he said, " Now, my guess is you haven't gone to see Rosa yet."
"I'm as good as gone," she said. He let her out the front door, reminding her to be in court on Monday.
Rosa almost had a heart attack when she saw Hotshot. Since Hotshot thought she owed it to her for not coming back the night before she let Rosa fuss over her and took the treatment silently. Daniel did not get back until after her worst wounds had been covered in new bandages. He couldn't see them under her buttoned shirt.
"What happened to you?" he asked seeing her black eye.
"Fight," she explained simply.
The other two came barreling in the door after Daniel had gone upstairs and the situated themselves in one of the many rooms.
Rosa found the three of them playing poker up in her room a few hours later and she only glanced disapprovingly at the pile in the middle of their game. "You'll lose all you money." She warned.
Hotshot shrugged, "Race's already done that." Getting a glare from Rosa she said, "Just one more game…"
The older woman nodded and left the room. True to their word they played one more game and turned in for the night. Race retreated to his room happily shoving his winnings into his pockets.
"Dave'll be back in a day or two," Specs said, pulling off his shirt and throwing it on a chair. "He's really grateful that you fought Mitchell and got Les out. You shoulda seen him, he acts so annoyed when Les is around but he really cares about him."
"Yeah, I know." She nodded, "Pie Eater and Dutchy probably reacted just as bad as he did. Dutchy went ten times paler than he already is when I told him you hadn't come back here, if that's possible."
"You know mw and Bumlets are real grateful too. If you hadn't gotten us outta there I think he really woulda killed us." He sat down next to her and she looked up to meet his eye.
"I know he woulda killed you. That's just the way he is, an' what'd ya expect me to do, not come."
"I wasn't really sure."
"Well then let me explain it to ya so ya don't make the mistake again, I don't give up on anyone. There are some newsies in Brooklyn that I can't stand but I woulda done the same for them."
Everyone went selling the next day, and they met at the Horace Greeley statue early as ever. With the usual singing and dancing through the streets. There were completely different styles exhibited by Brooklyn and Manhattan, which made Hotshot think; after this was over was she going back to Brooklyn or staying in Manhattan. She banished the thought from her mind and continued on through the gates, taking place in line with the others. When she reached the window a few snickers could be heard from the Delancy's.
"So," Oscar leaned forward, "You get soaked again?"
"Sure," she said leaning forward, "But you should see the otha guy."
"How could he possibly look worse than you?" Morris asked.
She leaned closer to the bars and they did the same. She whispered only loudly enough for them to hear, "He's dead and buried." With that she took the papers Weasel had put on the counter for her and left. Leaving the two boys standing there wondering if she was joking or not.
Everyone that had been standing behind her was laughing, able to guess what she had said by the look on the Delancy's faces. They joked about it on their way through the line.
Hotshot sold with Bumlets, Pie Eater, and Snoddy that day. Bumlets and Pie Eater did flips and other acrobatic tricks to draw a crowd and Snoddy and Hotshot yelled headlines. The group wandered to the edge of Manhattan and worked their way back to Tibby's. By the time they got their all their papers had been sold and the restaurant was already crowded. Luckily, they had a lot of the same friends. Specs, Dutchy, and Skittery had saved seats for them.
"So how's Blink?" Pie Eater asked Skittery.
Skittery looked up, smiling, "He was up an' walkin' an' ever'thin' when I went yesterday. A course the Doctas don' want him walking around yet, but that one that took over for him says he's doin' real good."
"We should go visit him this aftanoon," Hotshot said, hitting Bumlets' arm and nodding to Specs, "I ain't seen him since before Les an' I'm guessin' neither a you has either."
"You'se gonna hafta tell 'im about the fight," Bumlets laughed, "He loves those good fight stories."
Skittery shook his head, with a knowing grin on his face, "He's already been told. One a the fellas stopped by when I was there and, uhhh, told him the whole story."
"Which one a the fellas?" Hotshot asked.
Skittery pretended he hadn't heard her and focused on his plate.
"Skittery," her tone was warning, "Who?"
"Racetrack."
She groaned, now there were so many more things she was going to have to tell. She leaned her head over the back of her chair, "Why, outta everyone in Manhattan, does Race pick my life to make up?"
"It's 'cause youse jus' such an interestin' person." The Italian midget had appeared behind her. "An' I didn't exaggerate it, jus' told him what you told us yestaday."
At least half the table came back at him, "Yeah right."
Race just shook his head, "Youse bums don' gotta believe me but I did." He put a hand on Snoddy's shoulder, "Didja hear about the fun Hotshot 'ere had wit' youse bruddahs heads this morning?"
"No," he looked interested, "What'd ya do?"
Hotshot looked at him confused, "To youse bruddahs, I dunno. I didn't even know you had bruddahs. The only people I messed wit' this mornin' were the Delancy's."
Dutchy snorted into his drink as the others all started to laugh.
"What's so funny?"
"Hotshot," Dutchy said, throwing an arm around her shoulder and gesturing toward Snoddy, "I'd like yas ta meet Richard 'Snoddy' Delancy."
"What?!" Snoddy, youse related to those scabs?"
"Unfortunately," he downed the rest of his drink in a gulp, "Our parent's died so we lived wit' Uncle Weasel, but I wasn't like them so they kicked me out and I ended up at the lodgin' house. At first I didn't tell nobody, but it leaked eventually."
"Oy," Skittery coughed, "That was a long day."
Snoddy groaned and nodded in agreement, "It's a long story."
She held up a hand, "I'll take your word for it." With that she, Bumlets, Specs, and Dutchy left on their way to the hospital.
Kid Blink was dressed semi-normally when they got there; at least he wasn't in the hospital gowns anymore. Mush was losing pitifully to him in a game of poker. "Well, if it ain't da hero." Mush said, glad for something to end the game.
"What's up Mush?" Dutchy greeted, "How are ye Kid?"
Kid Blink gave both Specs and Bumlets brotherly hugs, "I'm doin' better. Glad the t'ree a youse is alright." He wrapped an arm around Hotshot's waist, "I'se glad you killed that guy, Mitchell. I neva liked him anyway."
She laughed about it for the first time, "Kid Blink you neva met him."
"True," he admitted, "but from what I'se heard from Race I really didn't like him all that much."
"Nobody did." Bumlets left it at that.
"So you ready for tomorrow?" Specs asked the room. Dutchy raised an eyebrow at him. "Me, Hotshot and Kid Blink testify tomorrow." He explained to Dutchy.
"It's gonna be awful but it means it's over," Hotshot said, "The rest of the week is just Judge Monahan deciding everything. On Thursday my dad's having a party out in Brooklyn, and Friday. Well Friday, I find out what happens."
Specs saw the doubt in her eyes, "Don' worry, the judge is gonna grant you emancipation. That way you'll get ta hang out wit' bums like us as long as you want."
"Hey," Kid Blink complained, " I ain't no bum."
"Well then what are you?" Bumlets asked.
He smiled at Specs, "I'se an antagonist."
Specs laughed, "Definitely."
"What about me?" Mush asked, "I ain't a bum either?"
"Nah, Mush, youse just naïve." Hotshot said.
Mush smiled and spoke up, "Ya hear that fellas, I'se naïve."
Specs opened his mouth to tell Mush what it meant but Hotshot shushed him, "Let it go, Specs. He'll find out eventually."
That night she lay up on the roof, staring up at the stars and completely ignoring Race's cries from inside. He was losing, again, and he obviously wasn't too pleased about it. She just smiled to herself.
* * *
Racetrack sat on the floor of Hotshots room, a large pile being swept over to Royal's side of the circle. "C'mon man, youse killin' me." He complained.
They'd been able to invite a few of the newsies to her house to play poker until curfew. Other than himself, and Royal, Swinger, Ace, Dutchy, Jack, and Spot were seated in the circle with Race. David sat with a few of them watching the game and chatting with his friends. Specs was sitting on the seat by the window, occasionally poking his head outside to look for Hotshot.
"I'se out for the next game," Race said, "Need some time ta recuperate." He looked at Royal and Ace who had beaten him all night. Sure he'd had a few good games but they were winning the majority. He took a seat next to Specs after shoving Dave into his spot in the circle. "I was talking ta Pickpocket the otha day…"
Specs looked at him, "Ummm, ok Race."
Racetrack sighed, "He and most of Spot's other boys think she's moving back to Brooklyn when this whole thing is over."
Specs looked up, "She's going back to Brooklyn?"
"Well she said yes, but he also said it took 'er a while to answer and she looked kinda uncertain."
"So she's not going back to Brooklyn?"
"That's why I thought I should talk ta you, Specs. She never said she wanted to go back to Brooklyn-"
"I know that's why…"
Racetrack held up a hand to keep him from talking, somehow the others were not paying attention to their conversation, "But she never said she planned on staying here either."
At that thought Specs good spirits dropped. Of course this didn't show, but Race was looking him in the eye and could tell.
"I mean maybe she is planning to stay here but she ain't told anyone yet. I'se only tellin' you 'cause I know you still care about her, then for all I know you two might not get together again, I just thought you'd like to know. Maybe you should just go out there and talked to her." He motioned toward the roof and Specs nodded.
"Go play poker, Race," He put some of his change into Race's hand, "Pay me back later."
He slid out the window and carefully climbed up to the flat area of the roof. She was stretched out staring up at the sky. She didn't notice him until he spoke, "Hey."
* * *
She looked to her left at the sound of a voice and found Specs sitting next to her. "What's up?"
"Me and Race were talkin' down in your room. He took a break from the poker game?"
"What'd Race take a break from poker to talk about?"
"You, actually."
She rolled onto her side and looked at him. She could tell from his voice that there was something wrong. She could tell if something was wrong with Spot so she could easily read Specs like a book, "What is it Specs?"
He sighed, "After this is all over where are you gonna stay. You'll be able to go back to Brooklyn, or stay in the lodging house again. All spot's guys are sayin' you're goin' back wit' 'em."
"You want me to stay here?"
"Well, yeah, but what were you planning on doing?"
"At this moment I have no idea. Pickpocket, Swinger, Roman an' some of the other's asked a while ago and I said I was goin' back jus' to make 'em happy. That's what I think about a lot. I really don't know. I'se just tryin' to get through the trial first."
He nodded, "Alright, so what're ya thinkin' about now?"
He assumed her position from before he'd interrupted her. She stretched out next to him and rested her head on his shoulder. "Absolutely nothing." The two of them fell silent, watching the stars.
Spot sat on the edge of the roof. He had come up to talk to Hotshot about the same thing and heard the entire conversation. He shook his head; even a blind man could tell that Specs still had strong feelings for Hotshot. He grinned when he thought of what Hotshot had asked him that afternoon. She'd asked him if he thought Specs still liked her. As much as Spot wanted her back he'd quickly said yes, knowing it was true and that it was what she wanted. Now, seeing them together he almost regretted it. Even though he was seen as a bit of a loner he had grown used to having Brooke around and hadn't thought they'd break up. He was ready to give her up, but thought now of trying to find a new girlfriend.
"Hey, youse two," he called, "unless you'se like the thought of getting soaked by Race and Dutchy I suggest you come on down pretty soon.
"Comin'." They hollered back in unison. The three of them slid back in through the window, only to hear complaints from two of their friends who had been busily filling a bucket with water.
As Hotshot lay alone in her room later that night she thought hard about the Brooklyn vs. Manhattan decision she would have to face very soon. That would have to wait, she realized, focusing on a spot on the ceiling. She had to think about tomorrow first. It was time to squash Pulitzer.
I know, I know, it's about time I've had another chapter. I have to say I've been working really hard on this and other stuff. Football games are a killer and I've been working more lately. Sophomore year stinks too. But then look at this and see what two days of being sick can accomplish.
There really aren't many chapters left in this but I promise they will be somewhat long. My few story ideas are growing very quickly, but I won't start typing them 'til this is done. Again I want to thank those of you that reviewed the last chapter. I hope you forgive me for taking so long to put this up and review this chapter too. I have the morning off from work this Saturday so that means more time to type.
I also might change my pen name to Hotshot, because I like it and it's so much more original than Megan. Just be prepared to maybe see that change. Take care. New chapter coming up pronto.
Also, if you want to see more of Hotshot you can find her in 'Shade of Tenair's' new story "Once Upon a Time Was a Back Beat" There've been like 2-3 chapters with her and I absolutely love Shade's ideas.
~Megan~~~
~Hotshot~~~