A/N: All right, you wanted more, so I give you more, despite the fact
that Slider is still killing Race off. Damn her. Everyone, kill Slider.
Anyway. here goes nothing.
I eventually left the party with a few of my crew and headed back to the lodging house. I signed my name on the ledger and walked up to my bed. I lay down and curled up into a ball, sleeping. And dreaming. Dreaming of her.
The next morning someone woke me with a jolt. It was only Roman, another boy from the lodging house. He shook me awake with a grin on his face; I knew something was up. "Jack's here on official 'Hattan business, but he has a personal note as well," he said, his smile nearly taking up his whole face. A teasing light was present in his eyes and I knew he already read the note.
"So, what did it say?" I asked him. He repeatedly denied having read the notice and told me to go talk to Jack already. So I buttoned my shirt and walked down the stairs swinging my cane. "Got a note for me, Jacky- boy?"
"Maybe I do," he said, jokingly holding the note out of my grasp. "What? You can't reach it? Oh, I'm sorry Spot. Entirely my bad," he taunted, and I send a quick soft punch into his stomach. It wasn't much, I didn't want to do any damage, but it got him to give up the letter.
I opened it and started reading the print, which obviously belonged to a girl, as us newsboys had the most illegible penmanship known to man. The beautiful script read, "To the infamous Spot Conlon- I never got around to giving you my name last night. I'm Slider, pleased to meet you. There, the formalities have been taken care of now. About that offer I made earlier, you still interested? I could meet with you tonight at seven on the Brooklyn Bridge and we could find a private place to practice. Always, Slider Madden."
"So? Who's it from? What's it say?" Jack said, with pretend interest.
"Cut it out, Jack. I know you've already read it," I told him.
He looked at me, "Well, yeah, you'd have to be a bum not to figure that. But what exactly is this offer? Hmmm, sounds suspicious," Jack said with raised eyebrows. I swatted at him with my cane. "I never knew Slider had such an interesting night job. The Brooklyn Bridge is quite an exotic place to--"
"Shut the hell up," I told him. "Now what's this official 'Hattan business Roman mentioned? I know the great Jack Kelly didn't come up here just to deliver a letter."
"Well, it goes like this." he started, and began to explain whatever that important business had been. My mind, however, was not on Jack, it was off in Manhattan following a certain girl by the name of Slider. I could see her joking around with Spark, one of the other Manhattan girls I'd known since I was fourteen and she first became a newsie. She was probably teasing Spark about that Italian gambler kid, what was his name again?
"Racetrack says--" Jack was saying. Racetrack, that's it. She was most likely teasing Spark and Racetrack. After all, even I, who can't remember his name, know that those two are almost officially a couple, whether they choose to acknowledge it or not. But I wasn't thinking about Race and Spark's relationship, I was thinking about me and Slider's.
"Catch all dat?" Jack wrapped up. I nodded and responded with a zombie-like yes. He looked at me, "Did you hear a word of that?"
"Yes! I heard. 'Well, it goes like this' and 'Racetrack says'" I said and Jack laughed at me. We set off towards the distribution office to buy our papes, since Jack was selling in Brooklyn today. Jacky-boy may be one of my best friends, but I have to admit, I hate selling with him. And that's because he is the only guy in all of New York who can give me a run for my money on hawking headlines.
At six o'clock, I had sold all my papes, so I headed back towards the lodging house. I walked over to the cracked porcelain tub filled, not with the boiling water I wished for, but water at what most have been the closest it could come to frozen without becoming a solid. I braved the cold however and washed up as best I could. I grabbed a new shirt and my hat and walked out the door towards the Brooklyn Bridge. I passed by Jack and Roman chatting as well as Karth and Swimmer, all of whom whistled and laughed their pathetic asses off at me.
"Hey, you look nice tonight," a voice called out of the darkness. I turned to face in the direction of the voice.
"Slider?" I asked, unsure. A group of boys erupted into laughter and I saw the suspects, a group of boys from my borough standing nearby smiling with amusement.
I heard cries of "Spottie's been stood up!" and things of similar nature. I looked around me and faced the facts. Slider was just playing with my head. She was messing with my mind. She never planned on meeting me here. She stood me up. And I was a fool to play into her hands.
I was a fool to fall in love.
A/N: Your call. You want more? Yes or no? Review and you'll get more.
Shoutouts:
AaronLohrLover24- Glad you like this one. I'm on like a kick with these things. Maybe I'll do another one when this is finished. Hmm. who could I do? Perhaps a certain girl named Sprite and a guy named Mush???
Raven's Wing: Yep, Spot fics are definitely some of the best. His inability to remember names came from discussions with my non-newsie- obsessed friends. When I refer to Blink I'm always like "Eye-patch boy!" and Mush is "That guy with the really great stomach" and Spot's "The sexy, sexy Brooklyn boy". Haha. I've decided to keep it going even though it will still be short, because this is my random for-no-particular-holiday gift to Slider.
Disclaimer: Oh, I forgot this. As much as I know you all want to sue my ass, you no longer can. Newsies and all the original characters are property of Disney (lucky bastards!), but I did steal Race and lock him in a closet. He now has a collar (that ones for you, Keza). Slider is property of herself (and of course the infamous happy bunnies). I do, however, own that sexay beast by the name of Spark (a.k.a. moi). LOL.
I eventually left the party with a few of my crew and headed back to the lodging house. I signed my name on the ledger and walked up to my bed. I lay down and curled up into a ball, sleeping. And dreaming. Dreaming of her.
The next morning someone woke me with a jolt. It was only Roman, another boy from the lodging house. He shook me awake with a grin on his face; I knew something was up. "Jack's here on official 'Hattan business, but he has a personal note as well," he said, his smile nearly taking up his whole face. A teasing light was present in his eyes and I knew he already read the note.
"So, what did it say?" I asked him. He repeatedly denied having read the notice and told me to go talk to Jack already. So I buttoned my shirt and walked down the stairs swinging my cane. "Got a note for me, Jacky- boy?"
"Maybe I do," he said, jokingly holding the note out of my grasp. "What? You can't reach it? Oh, I'm sorry Spot. Entirely my bad," he taunted, and I send a quick soft punch into his stomach. It wasn't much, I didn't want to do any damage, but it got him to give up the letter.
I opened it and started reading the print, which obviously belonged to a girl, as us newsboys had the most illegible penmanship known to man. The beautiful script read, "To the infamous Spot Conlon- I never got around to giving you my name last night. I'm Slider, pleased to meet you. There, the formalities have been taken care of now. About that offer I made earlier, you still interested? I could meet with you tonight at seven on the Brooklyn Bridge and we could find a private place to practice. Always, Slider Madden."
"So? Who's it from? What's it say?" Jack said, with pretend interest.
"Cut it out, Jack. I know you've already read it," I told him.
He looked at me, "Well, yeah, you'd have to be a bum not to figure that. But what exactly is this offer? Hmmm, sounds suspicious," Jack said with raised eyebrows. I swatted at him with my cane. "I never knew Slider had such an interesting night job. The Brooklyn Bridge is quite an exotic place to--"
"Shut the hell up," I told him. "Now what's this official 'Hattan business Roman mentioned? I know the great Jack Kelly didn't come up here just to deliver a letter."
"Well, it goes like this." he started, and began to explain whatever that important business had been. My mind, however, was not on Jack, it was off in Manhattan following a certain girl by the name of Slider. I could see her joking around with Spark, one of the other Manhattan girls I'd known since I was fourteen and she first became a newsie. She was probably teasing Spark about that Italian gambler kid, what was his name again?
"Racetrack says--" Jack was saying. Racetrack, that's it. She was most likely teasing Spark and Racetrack. After all, even I, who can't remember his name, know that those two are almost officially a couple, whether they choose to acknowledge it or not. But I wasn't thinking about Race and Spark's relationship, I was thinking about me and Slider's.
"Catch all dat?" Jack wrapped up. I nodded and responded with a zombie-like yes. He looked at me, "Did you hear a word of that?"
"Yes! I heard. 'Well, it goes like this' and 'Racetrack says'" I said and Jack laughed at me. We set off towards the distribution office to buy our papes, since Jack was selling in Brooklyn today. Jacky-boy may be one of my best friends, but I have to admit, I hate selling with him. And that's because he is the only guy in all of New York who can give me a run for my money on hawking headlines.
At six o'clock, I had sold all my papes, so I headed back towards the lodging house. I walked over to the cracked porcelain tub filled, not with the boiling water I wished for, but water at what most have been the closest it could come to frozen without becoming a solid. I braved the cold however and washed up as best I could. I grabbed a new shirt and my hat and walked out the door towards the Brooklyn Bridge. I passed by Jack and Roman chatting as well as Karth and Swimmer, all of whom whistled and laughed their pathetic asses off at me.
"Hey, you look nice tonight," a voice called out of the darkness. I turned to face in the direction of the voice.
"Slider?" I asked, unsure. A group of boys erupted into laughter and I saw the suspects, a group of boys from my borough standing nearby smiling with amusement.
I heard cries of "Spottie's been stood up!" and things of similar nature. I looked around me and faced the facts. Slider was just playing with my head. She was messing with my mind. She never planned on meeting me here. She stood me up. And I was a fool to play into her hands.
I was a fool to fall in love.
A/N: Your call. You want more? Yes or no? Review and you'll get more.
Shoutouts:
AaronLohrLover24- Glad you like this one. I'm on like a kick with these things. Maybe I'll do another one when this is finished. Hmm. who could I do? Perhaps a certain girl named Sprite and a guy named Mush???
Raven's Wing: Yep, Spot fics are definitely some of the best. His inability to remember names came from discussions with my non-newsie- obsessed friends. When I refer to Blink I'm always like "Eye-patch boy!" and Mush is "That guy with the really great stomach" and Spot's "The sexy, sexy Brooklyn boy". Haha. I've decided to keep it going even though it will still be short, because this is my random for-no-particular-holiday gift to Slider.
Disclaimer: Oh, I forgot this. As much as I know you all want to sue my ass, you no longer can. Newsies and all the original characters are property of Disney (lucky bastards!), but I did steal Race and lock him in a closet. He now has a collar (that ones for you, Keza). Slider is property of herself (and of course the infamous happy bunnies). I do, however, own that sexay beast by the name of Spark (a.k.a. moi). LOL.