"Ah, I see you know my name. Surprising since you left nearly twelve
years ago. Never thought to contact us, did you?" I asked, bombarding him
with all the emotions that had been inside me since I was a five-year-old
girl. "Never once decided to let us know you were alive. Didn't care about
anyone but yourself, eh?"
"Its not what ya think. It wasn't my choice," Spot started, but I cut him off again.
"Not what I think, eh? You hear that boys? Michael here -excuse me, Spot here - says that it wasn't his choice whether to run off or not. Why not, Mike? You seem content and not in any danger. Why couldn't you just let us know you were alive?"
He snorted, "Pa wouldn't have cared. He liked ya bettah anyway. Bet he nevah talks 'bout me now, right?"
"Don't even go there, Michael Aaron Conlon! You know Father loved you just as much as me. And leaving that aside, I deserved to know where you were and how you were. I was, well, am, your sister. I care about you Spot! You're only two years older then me. Why'd you run off then, eh? Just let me know. I deserve to know at least," I said, losing my tough edge with the last sentence.
"I don' know. I don' know," Spot muttered, repeating himself over and over again. His boys looked at him at his weak moment, and he felt the need to demonstrate his authority. "But who're you ta tell me what ta do. You ain't me muddah!" I blinked back the tears welling in my eyes.
Did he even remember? Our mother had died giving birth to me. Forever I'd held the sorrow and responsibility for her death. Racetrack realized I was upset, though he couldn't have known why. He put his arm around me and glared at Spot. "Spot, I always though ya was a good guy, but ya hoit ya own sistah like dat. You'se a bastard, Spot. A real bastard. And dere ain't no arguin' wit' dat, even you know it." He turned and grabbed my arm, "Let's go, Alex. Apparently, you'se ain't wanted heah. Let's go back ta 'Hattan." I followed him and walked off away from the docks.
A/N: Yeah, this is a freakishly short chapter, but I hate writing more then one scene as a chapter, and I think this needed some abruptness. Please don't kill me for making Spot a bastard in this chapter, I will make him change. At least, change a little. I still think he's somewhat a bastard, but I love him anyway.
Priscilla- Yep, I guess you did say that. Glad ya like it, most of these reviewers have read some of my other stuff, but its nice to have a new reviewer. (
Bailey- You ain't hanging anymore, though I don't know whether this will make you happy or not. Hehe, I like leaving people hanging. I hate it when people do that to me, so now I'm having fun doing it to other people. I'm a horrible hypocrite. It is great fun.
Sprite- I love reading your reviews. They make me really happy, its fun to travel, ain't it? I do that for some people too, including you. You updated! Now I want more. I'm really impatient, aren't I? I'll try to work you in eventually, but it may take a while. More you and Skitts to come in WUAS. XD
"Its not what ya think. It wasn't my choice," Spot started, but I cut him off again.
"Not what I think, eh? You hear that boys? Michael here -excuse me, Spot here - says that it wasn't his choice whether to run off or not. Why not, Mike? You seem content and not in any danger. Why couldn't you just let us know you were alive?"
He snorted, "Pa wouldn't have cared. He liked ya bettah anyway. Bet he nevah talks 'bout me now, right?"
"Don't even go there, Michael Aaron Conlon! You know Father loved you just as much as me. And leaving that aside, I deserved to know where you were and how you were. I was, well, am, your sister. I care about you Spot! You're only two years older then me. Why'd you run off then, eh? Just let me know. I deserve to know at least," I said, losing my tough edge with the last sentence.
"I don' know. I don' know," Spot muttered, repeating himself over and over again. His boys looked at him at his weak moment, and he felt the need to demonstrate his authority. "But who're you ta tell me what ta do. You ain't me muddah!" I blinked back the tears welling in my eyes.
Did he even remember? Our mother had died giving birth to me. Forever I'd held the sorrow and responsibility for her death. Racetrack realized I was upset, though he couldn't have known why. He put his arm around me and glared at Spot. "Spot, I always though ya was a good guy, but ya hoit ya own sistah like dat. You'se a bastard, Spot. A real bastard. And dere ain't no arguin' wit' dat, even you know it." He turned and grabbed my arm, "Let's go, Alex. Apparently, you'se ain't wanted heah. Let's go back ta 'Hattan." I followed him and walked off away from the docks.
A/N: Yeah, this is a freakishly short chapter, but I hate writing more then one scene as a chapter, and I think this needed some abruptness. Please don't kill me for making Spot a bastard in this chapter, I will make him change. At least, change a little. I still think he's somewhat a bastard, but I love him anyway.
Priscilla- Yep, I guess you did say that. Glad ya like it, most of these reviewers have read some of my other stuff, but its nice to have a new reviewer. (
Bailey- You ain't hanging anymore, though I don't know whether this will make you happy or not. Hehe, I like leaving people hanging. I hate it when people do that to me, so now I'm having fun doing it to other people. I'm a horrible hypocrite. It is great fun.
Sprite- I love reading your reviews. They make me really happy, its fun to travel, ain't it? I do that for some people too, including you. You updated! Now I want more. I'm really impatient, aren't I? I'll try to work you in eventually, but it may take a while. More you and Skitts to come in WUAS. XD