Chapter two:
"Spot?" I called out to the empty lodging house. No answer. I got up and went into the small washroom. It consisted of a toilet and a very rusty sink. After splashing some water on my face and smoothing my hair down to the best of my abilities, I walked back into the room.
~GASP~ There was Spot, standing in the middle of the room. In a towel. And nothing else.
"Gee, I'se was wonderin' where's you'd gone off to," He said, not phased by his near nakedness. Oh my God! I thought. I turned and went into the main room of the LH.
Bad move. Very bad move. Thirty-some guys that looked to be 10 to 17 years old were running around in towels and long johns. I squeaked and turned, reflexively trying to go back into Spot's room. I stopped myself just in time. Shit! I thought to myself, what am I s'posed to do? Face thirty near nude guys out hear, or one super sexy nude guy in there? I had three options. 1) Stay where I was and not look up. 2)Go back through the door to Spot's shirtless-nes. Or 3) Push my way through the crowds to the exit.
"Hey, who's you?" Question answered. Stay and answer to this guy.
"Um." Dammit, is it so hard to say your own name?
"Dis here's Mandy," Spot said stepping through his door. He leaned closer to whisper in my ear, "Thought you might be a bit shocked comin' out here an' seein' all these bois getin' ready fer woik, I'se mean, judgin' by da look on you'se face an' all after you seen me."
I blushed ferociously. "I'se sorry, I'm jus' a wee bit exitable in da mornin'," I said, still trying to work out why I was here and where the accent had come from.
"Dat's OK sweetheart, most goils are after they'se spent the night with Spot," the unknown newsboy said suggestively, with a grin. I looked up at him only to look away from his terrifying black eyes. I don't mean bruise, but the color of his eyes was black. Is that humanly possible?
"Dis fella here's Ink," Spot said. I can see where he got the newsie name. "Mandy aint gots no place ta stay, sos she stayin' here for a few days."
"Two questions, is she you's, and is she gon' be a newsie fer ya?" Ink said. He gave me this look when he asked if I were taken that suddenly made me nervous. I was used to getting "looks." I was, how should I put this? Well built with a nice face. My eyes change color with my mood, so I'd assume the were purplish at the moment. I have relatively strait dirty blonde hair with thick strips of all the natural colors of hair from platinum to black. But Ink made me more nervous than normal.
Ink was just barely taller than me, probly about five-two/three. Around fourteen, I'd say. He was Hispanic, definantly, with a slim build and darkish skin.
"That's all up ta her, she gots a mid o her own," Spot said giving me the same look as Ink had without the same effect. "I'd like ya to be, though."
My eyes shot up to meet his. No one had ever asked me to be his girl before. Thirteen and still dateless. Yes, I got the looks left and right, but never had a guy done more. He looked at me pleadingly, and I glanced over at Ink who had started to walk away with a slumped over effect that meant, "Damn, he got another one."
I pulled him back into his room to talk to him. "Spot, I donno what to say. I-uh-well, I like ya an' all, but I jus' don' think I knows ya well enough, yet." He looked crushed, I felt guilty. I really did like him, I just wasn't sure about him, not yet anyways.
"Well, if dat's how you feels, then can't argue wit dat." He started to walk away, but stopped. "How bout a date, you knows, to get to know each others better."
"Sure," I said automatically. I just don't know when we would do it, considering the fact that I have a tendancy of jumping through time uncontrollably.
"Common, let's go git some papes, I'll show you'se da ropes." And with that, we left.
We got our papers from a stall down a short alley. After that, Spot took of down some dirty alleys walking so fast I had to run to keep up. I really wish that he knew about my incessant fear of dark alleys.
"So, you'se eva sold papes before?" Spot asked slowing down.
"No, but I have a general idea on what to do." I replied. I watched that movie, Newsies. Wait, wasn't there a Spot Conlan in that movie? Oh well. Suddenly it was quiet. "Spot? Where are you?" Oh no! My accent, it's gone.
Something crunched behind me. I spun to see half-a-dozen skinheads walking toward me. I was back in my jeans. "O shit!" I said and I started to run.
_______________~~~~~~~~~~_______________
Yes, I said it couldn't get worse. The with the time-travel thing will be explained in the next couple of chapters. For people that know me in person, the main character is NOT based on me. Please review. And by the way, thank you Shorty Carter and Racetrack The Hottie (of course I know who you are).
"Spot?" I called out to the empty lodging house. No answer. I got up and went into the small washroom. It consisted of a toilet and a very rusty sink. After splashing some water on my face and smoothing my hair down to the best of my abilities, I walked back into the room.
~GASP~ There was Spot, standing in the middle of the room. In a towel. And nothing else.
"Gee, I'se was wonderin' where's you'd gone off to," He said, not phased by his near nakedness. Oh my God! I thought. I turned and went into the main room of the LH.
Bad move. Very bad move. Thirty-some guys that looked to be 10 to 17 years old were running around in towels and long johns. I squeaked and turned, reflexively trying to go back into Spot's room. I stopped myself just in time. Shit! I thought to myself, what am I s'posed to do? Face thirty near nude guys out hear, or one super sexy nude guy in there? I had three options. 1) Stay where I was and not look up. 2)Go back through the door to Spot's shirtless-nes. Or 3) Push my way through the crowds to the exit.
"Hey, who's you?" Question answered. Stay and answer to this guy.
"Um." Dammit, is it so hard to say your own name?
"Dis here's Mandy," Spot said stepping through his door. He leaned closer to whisper in my ear, "Thought you might be a bit shocked comin' out here an' seein' all these bois getin' ready fer woik, I'se mean, judgin' by da look on you'se face an' all after you seen me."
I blushed ferociously. "I'se sorry, I'm jus' a wee bit exitable in da mornin'," I said, still trying to work out why I was here and where the accent had come from.
"Dat's OK sweetheart, most goils are after they'se spent the night with Spot," the unknown newsboy said suggestively, with a grin. I looked up at him only to look away from his terrifying black eyes. I don't mean bruise, but the color of his eyes was black. Is that humanly possible?
"Dis fella here's Ink," Spot said. I can see where he got the newsie name. "Mandy aint gots no place ta stay, sos she stayin' here for a few days."
"Two questions, is she you's, and is she gon' be a newsie fer ya?" Ink said. He gave me this look when he asked if I were taken that suddenly made me nervous. I was used to getting "looks." I was, how should I put this? Well built with a nice face. My eyes change color with my mood, so I'd assume the were purplish at the moment. I have relatively strait dirty blonde hair with thick strips of all the natural colors of hair from platinum to black. But Ink made me more nervous than normal.
Ink was just barely taller than me, probly about five-two/three. Around fourteen, I'd say. He was Hispanic, definantly, with a slim build and darkish skin.
"That's all up ta her, she gots a mid o her own," Spot said giving me the same look as Ink had without the same effect. "I'd like ya to be, though."
My eyes shot up to meet his. No one had ever asked me to be his girl before. Thirteen and still dateless. Yes, I got the looks left and right, but never had a guy done more. He looked at me pleadingly, and I glanced over at Ink who had started to walk away with a slumped over effect that meant, "Damn, he got another one."
I pulled him back into his room to talk to him. "Spot, I donno what to say. I-uh-well, I like ya an' all, but I jus' don' think I knows ya well enough, yet." He looked crushed, I felt guilty. I really did like him, I just wasn't sure about him, not yet anyways.
"Well, if dat's how you feels, then can't argue wit dat." He started to walk away, but stopped. "How bout a date, you knows, to get to know each others better."
"Sure," I said automatically. I just don't know when we would do it, considering the fact that I have a tendancy of jumping through time uncontrollably.
"Common, let's go git some papes, I'll show you'se da ropes." And with that, we left.
We got our papers from a stall down a short alley. After that, Spot took of down some dirty alleys walking so fast I had to run to keep up. I really wish that he knew about my incessant fear of dark alleys.
"So, you'se eva sold papes before?" Spot asked slowing down.
"No, but I have a general idea on what to do." I replied. I watched that movie, Newsies. Wait, wasn't there a Spot Conlan in that movie? Oh well. Suddenly it was quiet. "Spot? Where are you?" Oh no! My accent, it's gone.
Something crunched behind me. I spun to see half-a-dozen skinheads walking toward me. I was back in my jeans. "O shit!" I said and I started to run.
_______________~~~~~~~~~~_______________
Yes, I said it couldn't get worse. The with the time-travel thing will be explained in the next couple of chapters. For people that know me in person, the main character is NOT based on me. Please review. And by the way, thank you Shorty Carter and Racetrack The Hottie (of course I know who you are).
