Chapter one~

I had just finished ordering my food at this old style dinner when I felt it. A hard pinch on the left side of my ass. I turned around and slapped the dude. Hard across his face.

"Hey sweet cheeks," he said, not referring to my face. " I'se was just flirtin' witchya."

"Cute, a New York accent," I said, thinking, what a great way to start off my stay in the city. "Guess what, I'se can do dat too. Go screw yoiself." I really hoped that made sense.

I started to walk away, towards an empty table, but he put his arm around me and said, "Why don't you'se come sits wit us?"

"I'm outta here," I said, shrugging him off me. I pushed my way through the door. I was sure he hadn't followed me, but.

"Eh, wassa goil like you'se doin in a place like dis?" God, do these Brooklyn boys EVER give up.

"I thought I told you to leav me the." I never finished my sentence. That wasn't the black haired greacer from the dinner, what was it called? Tibby's? Whatever.

The street was different. The road wasn't paved, just dirt. The Tibby's sign wasn't the tacky light up thing anymore, either. The dirty- blonde haired boy wasn't wearing normal cloths either. He had red suspenders on top of what looked like burlap pants. His shirt was dusty orange and the top three buttons were undone. OMG, how sexy! I was about to question his odd outfit when I chanced to look at what I was wearing. Let's just say it wasn't the jeans and T-shirt I'd been wearing 30 seconds ago. A dress.

"Who the hell are you?" I asked as he slowly walked closer to me.

"You'se aint from around here, is you?" I was picking up on a slight Irish undertone. When he stepped into the disc of light from a street lamp I noticed the shocking blue of his eyes. "Hey, you gots a place to stay?"

I thought, judging by the fact that something very odd was going on here, I figured, "No."

"I'se Spot Conlan. And might I ask what you'se name is?" He said as he got close enough to take my hand and kiss it.

"Mandy, but my friends call me Hops."

"O.K. Hops, since you'se aint got no place to stay, how bout stayin' at my place. Jus' fer tonight, though."

"I said me friends call me Hops, and that depends, where's your place?" That was odd, last I checked, I have no accent.

"I'se lives in a newsies lodging house, not too far from heh. Gots me own room and all."

"You aint hintin' at nothin', are you'se?"

"Not a chance, 'less you wants me to be." He seems nice enough, safer than the streets, I s'pose.

"Sure, Jus' don' try nothing," Is it jus' me, or is my accent thickening?

So, as the day got weirder, I was going home with a hot 19th century newsie. We walked a few blocks.

"So, you'se think you might get up early in the mornin' and sell some papes wit me?" Spot asked as we went to the stairs.

"I'll decide that in the mornin', jus' wake me up when you get up."

We got to his room and he immediately took off hiss suspenders, then his shirt. I noticed that he made no move to get out extra blankets. He got into his bed and motioned me in.

"You getting' in da bed, or plannen to sleep on da floor?"

"You'se said you'se not gonna try nothin', keep your promise, gottit?"

"Sure, sweetie." Spot said, with a slight air of annoyance. He rolled over and I got in putting my back to his. I slipped easily into sleep.

When I woke up the next morning, I was in an empty room, on a rusty cot. No Spot. No dress, just jeans and a T-shirt. ______________________________~~~~~~_____________________________

This aint over yet. Please review. This is my first fan-fiction, so I hope you like it. Look on the bright side, it can't get worse, can it?