Chapter 7: The Broom Closet, The Street Rat, and The Heiress

Phil pulled away, gaping at Spot, and for one painful moment, he was certain that she was going to slap him and tell him to get lost. Instead, he found her leaning forward so that her eyes were focused downward with her forehead pressed against his chest.

It took a while for Spot to find his voice again. When he did, he was horrified to find that he was stammering. "A-are ya alright?" He placed a hand tentatively on her mid-back. He was certain that she could hear the hammering of his heart as he waited anxiously for her to look at him.

Eventually, she trailed her violet eyes to his face. "Yes," She spoke very softly. Hints of a smile tugged at the corners of her crooked mouth. "At least, I think so."

Spot ran a hand through his sandy hair nervously, and he was appalled to feel his cheeks grow warm again. (Phil, on the other hand, secretly thought to herself how cute it was.) "Yeah.I.Well.I'se sorry an' all. I prob'ly shouldn't 'ave kis--."

She pressed a fingertip to his lips. "Don't worry about it." She allowed her lips to brush over his cheek, and then moved casually to the fire escape. "I guess we had best head back inside." She grabbed onto the railing and proceeded down the steps to the window, leaving Spot standing there, starry-eyed for a moment before coming back to his senses and trailing after her.

"Where's Spot?" One boy asked as Phil stepped in through the window. She recalled that he was called Dutchy and watched as he craned his neck to try to see past her.

The girl laughed. "You act as though you thought I pushed him off of the roof!" She turned, gesturing just as Spot entered the room.

Spot's heart did flip-flops as he looked upon her smiling face. Did all that just took place mean that she was his goil? Unsurprisingly, Spot had had more girlfriends than he could count, but none of them had lasted long. He eventually would lose interest in them because they all seemed the same to him, but this Phil was like no one he could fathom. She was pretty, but he had seen girls that were more so. Then again, none had her big grayish violet eyes surrounded by the silken fringe of her eyelashes or that crooked, little smile.

Spot was startled from his musings when Jack slapped him on the back. "Get things settled?" He flashed the other lad a knowing grin.

Spot observed that some of the other boys were trying to hear his response too, so he decided to play it off real nonchalant. "You forget who you'se talking to Jacky-Boy. A'course I settled ever'thing." Secretly, he was glad that Philippa was across the room and out of earshot with Racetrack, Specs, Skittery, and Kid Blink. He wasn't sure he was ready to tempt her wrath again. Inwardly, he groaned. He had faced all sorts of scabbers, but he felt defenseless against a simple female!

Race was trying to persuade the girl to be the fourth in a game of poker since Skittery seemed to be out due to lack of funds.

"I shouldn't." She protested.

"If ya don't know how ta play, den we'se can teach ya." Specs said amiably.

Spot chuckled, seeing even across the room, how Phil's eyes flashed in that defiant fashion that was becoming quite familiar to him. He watched as she sat down between Race and Kid Blink, saying, "I know how to play poker."

The guys made the assumption that it'd be an easy game, and in a way, they were not mistaken. It hadn't been more than ten minutes when Phil won the first game.

"Aw, beginners luck." Blink commented.

Within another half hour or so, Phil had all of the poker chips piled in front of her and had drawn in quite an audience as well.

Race ran a hand over his forehead. "I'se gonna have ta take ya to Sheepshed sometime."

"Sheepshed?"

Kid Blink put an arm around Phil's shoulders as if they'd been friends all of their lives. Surprisingly, she found that she didn't mind. She liked the newsies. They may have been a rowdy bunch, but she had a feeling that they were all sort of diamonds in the rough. "We call him Racetrack 'cause dat's where he is most 'a da time." He explained.

By this time, Spot had moved to sit on a nearby bottom bunk, and Phil got up to lie on the width of the bed beside him, resting on her stomach. With every attempt at subtlety, he placed a hand on the small of her back.

Boots looked to the girl. "So, where're ya from?"

She hesitated a moment before answering, uncertain that she was ready to reveal more about herself. "Santa Fe, New Mexico."

Jack was all ears now. "Santa Fe?" He asked in disbelief.

She nodded. "Well, that's where we were most of the time. My parents were entrepreneurs with the railroad."

"Santa Fe is da best place in da world." Jack sighed, taking out an old comic book based on that very city. Jack was infatuated with this place to which he'd never actually been.

Phil shrugged her slender shoulders. "It isn't bad, but it isn't like it is portrayed in that comic book either."

"Is that where ya learned to play poker?" The boy dubbed Pie Eater asked.

Phil tilted her head to smile at Spot, who was now lightly rubbing her back, before answering. "Yeah. When my parents went away sometimes on business, they'd have Christopher and me stay at this saloon where there was this really nice lady. Her name was." The girl paused to think. "Medda. Medda Larkson."

There was a moment of silence as all of the boys looked at each other. "Medda Larkson?!" They all exclaimed in unison.

"You know her?"

"We'se all her biggest fans." Race told her.

Spot looked at her with those cyan blue eyes. "Jack here could take ya to see Medda tomorrow after he sells his papes if ya want."

"Now don't go speakin' fer me, Spot." Jack smiled charismatically at Phil. "Unfortunately, I'se got me a date wit' me goil, Sarah." He laughed, correcting himself. "Well, not exactly unfortunate, but I wouldn't be able ta take ya to Medda's. Of course, one of me boys--." There was no need for Jack to continue because several of the boys were already volunteering.

"Me an' Medda go way back." Race was saying.

"I was plannin' ta go see 'er anyway." Another lad piped up.

Phil was sitting up on the bed now, getting ready to move closer to Spot when Kid Blink and Skittery sat down on either side of her. "We'se could take ya." Skittery slyly slid an arm around her shoulders. Phil noticed that Skittery had made sure to get the place on her left-farthest from Spot. Apparently, his earlier run in with the Brooklyn leader at Tibby's had left him, at least, a little wiser.

Blink, sadly, was not so smooth. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, he found himself on the floor at her feet. Spot had given him a fierce push off of the bed. Before Blink had time to do more than glower in return, one of the boys had peeked out of the door and now turned to them, exclaiming in a whisper, "Kloppman's coming!"

Everything happened so quickly that Phil wasn't sure what was going on. She saw Spot grab her little brother from the bed where he'd been sleeping while she was ushered into a broom closet. Spot and Kit were pushed in after her. She opened her mouth to say something, but Spot put his thumb against her lips, shaking his head.

"Shhh. We ain't exactly s'posed ta be here." He leaned close to murmur in her ear.

She could feel his breath against her cheek, and if Kit hadn't started to awaken at that exact moment, they may have shared their second kiss. That was the moment that the child happened to wake up, however, and not only that, but the little boy was awakening in rather awkward circumstances. It was quite dark in the broom closet, and he was frightened. The older two heard his small whimper, and Spot clamped a hand over his mouth-a bit roughly-but whispered to him, "We'se gots ta be quiet, but its okay. Your sister's here even."

Phil took the little lad from Spot's arms, and he fell silent, cuddling against her. His fears vanishing as he remembered that he was no longer at Crosswinds. In the bunk room, they could hear Crutchy talking to Kloppman, the man that ran the Newsboys' Lodging House. Crutchy was the best when it came to talking to adults. Some might go as far as to call him a brown noser, but at times like this, it came in handy.

Apparently, Kloppman had decided that while he was upstairs checking on the boys, he should get out the broom and sweep up some of the dirt that the boys had brought in from outside when they had returned from work that evening.

While most of the newsies looked around nervously, sure that the friends were caught, Crutchy was his usual chipper self. "Gee, Mr. Kloppman, Lemme do it. Us boys don't do enough around here."

Kloppman hesitated. Crutchy was a poor crippled boy after all, but the elderly man justified that maybe Crutchy was right. It wouldn't hurt the boys to help out a bit more. "Alright, Crutchy, but if its too difficult, you make sure to get some help, ya hear?"

A goofy grin spread over Crutchy's face. "Sure thing, Mr. Kloppman, Sir!" He grabbed up his single crutch and hobbled after the older gentleman, staying at the top of the stairs until he was certain he had headed for his own room. "See ya in da mornin', Mr. Kloppman!"

Only when Jack saw Crutchy heading back from the hallway, did he signal for one boy, Snoddy, to open the broom closet. "Sorry 'bout that." Snoddy muttered.

All of the newsies seemed quite concerned about Phil, asking whether she was all right and apologizing, as she walked out carrying Christopher. She set her brother down as Crutchy limped back in. She walked to Crutchy and kissed his cheek. "Thanks Crutchy. That was great! If it hadn't been for your quick thinking, we might all have been in trouble."

Crutchy's eyes went wide, and his hand flew up to the place on his cheek that the girl's lips had touched. He blushed. "Aw, it was nothin'. I'se just glad I could help."

She turned to the other boys. "And thanks to the rest of you as well."

"What?" Mush pretended to be offended. "Da rests of us don't get a smooch too?"

Phil laughed softly, giving Mush a playful shove. While this exchange had been taking place, Jack had approached Kit. He now kneeled down to be at the child's level. "How old are ya, Kid?"

The little boy held up four fingers. "Dis many."

"Four, eh?" Jack mused, mulling over in his mind what a good gimmick a kid so young would be for selling newspapers. He looked to Philippa. "So, are ya plannin' on sellin' papes?"

The girl admitted that she had been considering it, but wasn't really sure. Everyone looked to Spot, sensing that much of her decision depended on him.

"Are ya goin' back ta Brooklyn tonight, Spot?"

"Are ya tryin' ta get rid of me, Specs?" Spot demanded.

"No, no. Not at all, Spot." Specs said quickly, seeing the menacing expression Spot wore.

Spot calmed down a bit and shrugged. "I'd prob'ly betta."

Phil glanced at him worriedly. "It's getting late. Are you sure you should go now?"

No. thought Spot, but aloud he said, "Yeah." Too many of the guys were getting chummy with Phil, but he felt he had no right to say anything, thus staying here was bound to drive him insane. He had no official claim on her after all. "Goils!" He muttered under his breath.

"What was that?" Phil asked as she walked over to join him again.

Spot blinked, realizing too late that he had spoken out loud. "Oh, I was just thinkin' dat I'se better be getting' back 'cause me own boys'll be lost without me for so long, ya know."

Phil had a time of it trying to hide her disappointment. She lowered her eyes to the floor. "Oh. Well, I guess you had better then." What right had she to protest? They had kissed, that was all. It didn't necessarily mean anything.

Spot made to climb out of the window, and before he'd barely even gotten one leg out of the window, one of the boys was asking Phil if she'd go selling papes with him the next day. It took every ounce of Spot's self- control not to leap back inside and give the guy a good soakin'.

Jack leaned close to Phil to suggest, "Why don't ya walk Spot down? I'll keep an eye on your little brudda fer ya."

"But--."

"Go on." He gave her a gentle push toward the window, knowing that Spot must be completely and utterly smitten with the girl, considering how he had modified his behavior.

Phil called down to Spot, who was already halfway down the fire escape. "Wait!" Spot turned. "I'll.I'll walk you down."

Spot couldn't help but smile. "Thanks." He waited for her to catch up, and they took slow steps downward to reach the alleyway.

When they reached the bottom, the both remained silent for a long moment until Phil finally asked, "When will I be seeing you again?"

Spot kicked at a pebble with his foot. "A few days. Prob'ly a week or so." He shrugged his shoulders. "I'se gotta make a livin'."

Phile sighed, again doing her best to hide her disappointment. She nodded, "Yeah. Me too, until I can find a way to get my money."

Spot raised an eyebrow. "What money?"

Phil bit down on her bottom lip. Should she tell him? She decided that she would. "I already told you that my parents were railroad entrepreneurs, right?" Spot nodded. "Well, when Mama and Papa died, they left $20,000 to be used for my care and another $20,000 to be used for the care of Christopher."

Spot gaped at her, coming to the realization that she must have really lived in the uppermost crust of society. Doubts then flooded his mind. He was a fool to think that she could have like him! He was no more than a street rat while she was the heiress to an amazing sum of money.

Phil reached as if to take his hand, but he recoiled. "I hafta go 'fore it gets any later." With that, he walked off, leaving Phil to stand there alone, wondering what she had done wrong.