Chapter 6
The sunlight streamed in through the open window and stirred Spot from his sleep. Yawning Spot jumped down from his bunk, rubbing the back of his stiff neck, having slept on it wrong the whole night. It had been two weeks since Tuesday had told Spot about her past and Spot still couldn't go to sleep without dreaming of his own past.
Tuesday was still sleeping soundly and meaning not to wake her, Spot made his way over to the sink that was always left for him to use and grabbed his razor and shaving cream. Aces smirked as he looked over at Spot and quickly towel dried his face, throwing the towel into Brink's face. Aces walked over to Spot and shoved him lightly, getting a threatening look from Spot. Throwing up his hands in the air to show no disrespect, Aces started to laugh.
"Awright, you'se don't have to get so defensive."
Spot scowled at him.
"So what'd ya want?"
Aces rubbed the back of his neck nervously as he glanced around the washroom.
"We's jist wonderin' 'bout you'se and Tuesday, that all."
Spot's eyebrows raised slightly at this.
"What'd ya mean we's?"
"I'se mean me and da boys."
Spot sighed and went back to shaving his face.
"What'd you'se want ta know?"
"Well we's gittin' da idea that you'se and Tuesday are together. And we's think that you'se gittin' soft 'cause of it."
Spot gripped the blade so hard that he dug into his skin as he drug the blade over his cheek, cutting it. Spot reached up to his cheek and touched where he had cut it, drops of bright red blood smudged across his cheek, but he hardly paid it any attention.
The washroom had become silent now, everybody waiting for Spot to reply. Spot's icy blue eyes stared down everyone in the washroom causing some of the boys to tremble.
"I'se not growin' soft. Ya hear? I'se jist lettin' Tuesday here until she recovers. That's all."
"She recovered a week ago, why ain't she gone?" Brink's voice sounded awkward as he spoke up, something that rarely happened when speaking to Spot. Spot's jaw opened but no words passed his lips, only air.
"I'se can prove ta ya that I'se not goin' soft. Tuesday will be gone by sundown, or my name ain't Spot Conlon. A small cheer erupted from the group, and some of them patted Spot's back as they walked past him.
The cut on Spot's cheek slowly began to sting as the drops of blood dripped down his cheek and onto his bare chest, leaving a bright red stain over his heart.
The sunlight streamed in through the open window and stirred Spot from his sleep. Yawning Spot jumped down from his bunk, rubbing the back of his stiff neck, having slept on it wrong the whole night. It had been two weeks since Tuesday had told Spot about her past and Spot still couldn't go to sleep without dreaming of his own past.
Tuesday was still sleeping soundly and meaning not to wake her, Spot made his way over to the sink that was always left for him to use and grabbed his razor and shaving cream. Aces smirked as he looked over at Spot and quickly towel dried his face, throwing the towel into Brink's face. Aces walked over to Spot and shoved him lightly, getting a threatening look from Spot. Throwing up his hands in the air to show no disrespect, Aces started to laugh.
"Awright, you'se don't have to get so defensive."
Spot scowled at him.
"So what'd ya want?"
Aces rubbed the back of his neck nervously as he glanced around the washroom.
"We's jist wonderin' 'bout you'se and Tuesday, that all."
Spot's eyebrows raised slightly at this.
"What'd ya mean we's?"
"I'se mean me and da boys."
Spot sighed and went back to shaving his face.
"What'd you'se want ta know?"
"Well we's gittin' da idea that you'se and Tuesday are together. And we's think that you'se gittin' soft 'cause of it."
Spot gripped the blade so hard that he dug into his skin as he drug the blade over his cheek, cutting it. Spot reached up to his cheek and touched where he had cut it, drops of bright red blood smudged across his cheek, but he hardly paid it any attention.
The washroom had become silent now, everybody waiting for Spot to reply. Spot's icy blue eyes stared down everyone in the washroom causing some of the boys to tremble.
"I'se not growin' soft. Ya hear? I'se jist lettin' Tuesday here until she recovers. That's all."
"She recovered a week ago, why ain't she gone?" Brink's voice sounded awkward as he spoke up, something that rarely happened when speaking to Spot. Spot's jaw opened but no words passed his lips, only air.
"I'se can prove ta ya that I'se not goin' soft. Tuesday will be gone by sundown, or my name ain't Spot Conlon. A small cheer erupted from the group, and some of them patted Spot's back as they walked past him.
The cut on Spot's cheek slowly began to sting as the drops of blood dripped down his cheek and onto his bare chest, leaving a bright red stain over his heart.