A Change in Brooklyn Chapter 4: Hidden Personality, a newsies fanfic

Chapter Four: Hidden Personality

Brigid quietly walked up to Spot that night as the sun was setting, Mudpie scampering after her. He was sitting on his dock, feet dangling over the edge and staring at the water. She hesitated, and then shyly asked, "Spot?"

He turned his head and looked at her. "Yeah?"

"May I's sit down? I… I gotta tell ya sumt'in'."

Spot patted the wood next to him and replied, "Shoiuh."

Brigid sat down and stared at the water herself. "I jus' came ta say… ta say I's sorry. I nevuh in me life meant at hit ya like dat; I didn'ts know ya was standin' deh."

Spot chuckled and smiled. Looking at her, he replied, "'S okay. At least I knows ya loined sumt'in'."

Brigid smiled back at him, but then she got a good look at his left eye. It was turning black and blue, with a little bit of green to top it off. Her grin quickly turned into a frown and she stated, "Dat looks… terrible."

Spot shrugged. "I's had woise."

"I still feels bad," Brigid insisted. "If deh's any way I can make it up ta ya, jus' let me know. I's really sorry!"

"Hey, fuhgit 'bout it, k? I's fine," Spot snapped, trying to keep his "tough guy" persona on. He side-glanced at his new newsie.

Brigid nodded, looking slightly hurt, and she stood up to leave. She hesitated, but shook her head and walked off.

Spot lifted his head, feeling guilty. "Hey, wait! Is deh sumt'in' else ya need?"

Brigid paused and turned around. "Uh, no… it's nut'in', really."

"Well, I's da leaduh heah an' it's me job ta see dat everyone's happy an' doin' well," Spot argued, pressing her to tell him. "Spill it, Brigid! Hell, I ain't da leaduh of dis place fa a shitty nut'in'!"

She had to smile slightly at that, even if he did swear. Politely correcting him she spoke her mind. "No sweahing around' me, 'member? Anyway, if ya gots ta know, I was jus' wonderin' what ya was doin' out heah all alone."

Spot looked straight into her eyes, almost as if he was seeing if she was lying or not. No Brooklyn newsie who knew him dared ask him that, but she was new. She didn't know how he occasionally needed alone time and how he liked to at times sit on his dock alone, lost in his thoughts. She didn't know that you never asked Spot Conlon personal questions; you left him alone. He leaned back on his elbows and stared at the water. Quietly, he spoke, "I's jus'… t'inkin'."

Brigid sat back down next to him. "Anyt'in' wrong?"

Spot stared at her again. What was this, a therapy session? Who did she think she was, flouncing up to the leader of the toughest newsies in New York to offer help when she was a newcomer? Yet something about her kind and gentle nature got him, and he shook his head. "No, everyt'in's okay. Sometimes me mind jus' goes off an' I have ta stop an' wonduh 'bout stuff. Like, isn't it weird ta t'ink dat Califoina's way on da udda side of dis country an' people aw livin' deh? An' don't ya evuh wonduh if someone ya know is lookin' at da same staw as ya at night?" He winced, deciding what he'd said must've sounded dumb coming from a supposed "tough guy."

Brigid gazed at him with a small and understanding smile on her face. "Yes, I's do t'ink of t'in's like dat at times. It's great ya do, too. I t'ink da udda's give ya less credit dan ya desoive, Spot." She got up and headed back into the warehouse.

Spot watched her leave, turned back to the sunset, and sighed.