Chapter 1 Boy Meets...Uhh...

Spot Conlon was not having what one may call a good day. The leader of the Brooklyn Newsies had sold only about half of his newspapers and in spite of his years of experience, it looked like he probably wouldn't be selling many more. Never the less, he kept at it. "Extra! Extra! Read all about it!" He shouted. "Woman gives birth to- Oof!" Spot felt the air rush from his lungs as a frantic figure ran right into him. He glared, strongly considering whether or not to give this person a black eye. "Who do ya think ya are? You got some noive runnin' into me like dat! I oughta soak ya, ya lously bum!"

The other kid looked to the ground, their face already hidden for the most part beneath a hat that was pulled down low over their eyes. This unnerved Spot further, and he reached for the hat. The person pulled back, reaching up to hold the hat in place. Spot frowned, but didn't press further, curiosity starting to get the better of him. From what Spot could see, it appeared to be a boy near his own age of sixteen or seventeen, though with a build that could almost be considered petite.

The kid began looking around nervously as shouts sounded over the bustle of the New York City streets. Spot glanced two uniformed men heading their way, and didn't wait around long enough to see who they were after. Instinctively, he grabbed the other kid's arm and pulled him through the maze of streets. Finally, he ducked into an alley, the other kid close behind..

Angrily, he whirled around, ready to give this boy a piece of his mind, but what he saw left him standing there as open-mouthed as a codfish. In front of him was not a teenage boy, as he had originally assumed, but rather a teenage girl who was not lacking in attractive qualities.

"You're a--! I mean, how'd ya--? You're a goil!" He finally stammered.

The girl looked down, seeing that her hat was lying on the ground at her feet. Her eyes went wide with panic for a moment, but then she looked him right in the eye; her hands on her hips. "Yeah. So what?"

Spot removed his own cap and ran a hand through his light brown hair. He thought back, trying to recall what all he had said to her. To his dismay, he realized that he had threatened to "soak her". (Basically to beat her up for those who may not be fluent in NEWSIES slang.) He met the girl's gaze, but seemed a bit sheepish--not like himself at all!

Reminding himself that he was the Spot Conlon; the toughest, most famous newsie of all time, he smiled at her. "So, what's ya name, Doll?"

"Doll?" She scoffed, crinkling her nose in distaste. "I ain't nobody's doll." She leaned down, picking up her cap and started tucking her hair up underneath it again.

Spot raised an eyebrow. "What are ya doin' that for anyways?"

The girl narrowed her eyes defensively. " 'Cause I feel like it."

Poor Spot had numerous questions racing through his mind by this point. He wondered where she had come from Who exactly was she? Perhaps most importantly, what was it that she was hiding? Spot knew that she wasn't so defensive for no reason. You couldn't be on the streets for as long as Spot had and not know when someone was trying to hide something big. The city was full of runaways and orphans, but Spot found himself thinking of taking this one under his wing.

He extended a hand to her, saying, "I'm Spot Conlon. What can I call you?"

She brushed past him without so much as a glance. Her hair was swept up into the cap again, and she made a her way toward the street. "You can call me outta here." She muttered.

Spot caught her by the arm. "C'mon now. If its da bulls you'se afraid of, I can help ya. Nobody knows da streets of New Yawk like me an' me boys." She scowled as she tried to pull out of his grasp, but he had a good hold. Eventually, she stopped struggling.

"Look. It isn't da bulls." She tilted her head up slightly to look at him from beneath the brim of her hat, and Spot felt lost in the depths of big, velvety violet eyes behind long, dark lashes. She studied him a moment before hesitantly speaking again. "I'm Philippa--Phil for short."

His mouth curved upward into that charismatic 'Spot Conlon' grin as he released her arm. "Now dat's more like it!" Philippa was looking pretty uneasy, but she made no attempt to leave until Spot moved toward the busy street just beyond the alleyway. "Da bulls woulda given up by now." He hesitated before asking, "So..why was dey afta ya?"

Philippa reached into the pocket of the trousers she was wearing to reveal an apple. She gave a little shrug, casually commenting, "I was hungry." She followed Spot onto the street.

For a moment, Spot was disoriented. Everything was suddenly unfamiliar. Then, he remembered that he wasn't on his home turf of Brooklyn, because he had decided he wanted to visit with Jack and his newsies after he had finished selling papes. He hadn't been around for a few weeks and had missed hanging around Tibby's with some of his Manhattan buddies.

His companion started to bring the apple to her mouth, and Spot knew that it had probably been a few days since she had eaten. Suddenly, her hand froze a few inches from her face, her eyes transfixed on something a couple of yards away. Following her gaze, Spot saw a young child, no more than six years in age. The little boy was eyeing the apple enviously. The newsie watched as Philippa tossed the apple up, catching it in her opposite hand. She faltered less than a second before walking to the child and offering the fruit. "Here. Take it."

The boy did so delightedly, not waiting for Phil to walk away before biting into the smooth, red skin of the apple. She was soon standing next to Spot again, and he looked at her, obviously surprised by this sudden show of tenderness. Phil smiled; a somewhat sad smile. "He needed it more'n I did. Besides, he reminds me a' somebody."

Spot was about to ask her who the kid reminded her of but thought better of it. It wouldn't do him any good to pry. He patted his pockets, listening to the jingling of what little money he had made that day. "How's 'bout I take ya to Tibby's? My treat. Its a real nice place, an' da food ain't too bad neither."

Phil was a prideful thing and would have protested were it not for the growling of her stomach. So, she nodded consent as once again she followed his lead. The three blocks or so that it took to reach Tibby's were walked in near silence, neither of them knowing what to say to the other. Spot eventually resorted to whistling to the tune of "My Lovey Dovey Baby". Finally, they reached Tibby's, and with a mischievious glint in his cyan eyes, Spot snatched the cap from Phil's head. The girl's violet eyes flashed angrily, seeming to darken into a gray like the sea after a storm.

"Give that back." She snapped as chestnut colored hair tumbled down to the middle of her back.

"Calm down, Phil." Spot laughed at first, but his tone quickly turned serious when he saw that it truly had upset her. "Alright. Now, I dun' know what it is that's got ya all noivious, or why you'se tryin' ta make yaself look like a boy. I mean, I'se sure ya got your reasons an' all, but here at Tibby's it'll just be me an' some of me best pals. I'll make sure that ya stay safe."

There was something about Spot that made Phil believe that he was sincere and that he would do what he could to ensure her safety. He had already saved her from the police after all. Still a bit reluctant, she let Spot keep her cap as they headed into the restuarant.