Chapter 2
Spot woke up before the rest of the newsies. He climbed out of the
bunk bed and walked over to the washroom. He stripped down and took a nice
warm shower. Rafter, one of the Brooklyn Newsies had broken the hot water
pipe and it never was fixed. So Spot enjoyed his shower. He dried himself
off and put on every thing but his shirt. He took a good look at his back,
they hadn't added any new scars to his back, and a few fresh bruises where
there but nothing he couldn't handle, or hadn't taken before. He put his
shirt on and fixed his suspenders. He was jsut putting on his shoes when
Kloppman came up and woke everyone from their slumbers.
Words like "Carry the Banner" "Five moah minutes" "Get up Cowboy"
were heard. Groans and yawns. The older newsies shaved their slight
mustaches and beards to look their youngest. The younger newsies were more
awake and were humming the newest song they had heard from the homeless
musicians.
Spot Conlon was still sitting on his bed when Jack and Blink had
walked over to him. Jack had just tied his bandana. "Spot, what happened?"
"Nothing." Spot was fiddling with his shoe lace and not looking up.
Blink shook his head, "Spot, ya one of da toughest newsies around an'
heah ya are, all beat up an' not in Brooklyn, somedin had ta happen."
"Your right, but dat doesn't mean I'm gonna tell ya. Lemme alone."
"Spot, we wanna know what happened."
"Well ya not goin ta. Lemme the hell alone. I'm fine." Spot stopped
playing with his shoelace and stormed out of the lodging house.
He walked over to the nuns and grabbed a stale piece of bread; stale
bread for a stale mood. He couldn't have the newsies finding out his
secret. He just couldn't, he had already lost his position of the fearless
leader of the Brooklyn newsies. Now he was being the exact opposite. A
scared seventeen year old newsboy, but he couldn't even be a normal one.
What would Manhattan say when they all heard that the famous leader, with
all the looks, all the girls (so they thought, Spot smirked to himself) and
one of the best sellers didn't like girls? That he was gay, that he hated
keeping his secret. But in 1899, being gay was one of the things looked
down on the most. He was already beat up and kicked out of his own lodging
house. He only had one more place to go after Manhattan and no way in hell
did he want to go home.
Spot waited for Newspaper Row's iron gates to open. He had just
finished the last crumb of the stale bread when Racetrack came along. "Hey
Spot."
Spot nodded hello. His eyes were wandering off at nothing. He was
still out of it. But then his eyes stopped wandering and focused on a short
newsies with jet black hair and blue eyes. Zack...I wonder if he's alright.
.did they get to him? Spot cleared his throat, "Zack! Ovah heah."
Zack turned around and walked towards his boyfriend. "Spot...sarry I
ran last night, I was afraid dey would soak me...I shoulda stayed.."
"It's alright, listen, if ya stayed dey woulda killed ya, they tried
killin' me."
"I'm sarry Spot, who's dis?" Zack flicked his thumb over towards
Racetrack.
"Dis is one ofa my best freinds, Racetrack Higgins, meet Zack
Palicio. Dis is the guy Brooklyn caught me wid. My boyfreind." Spot
actually let a smile out with those last two words. The two boys shook
hands and said their hellos.
"Are ya a newsie?" Race asked.
Zack shook his head and some of his raven hair swished around. "I
work foah Medda, I clean up after her shows."
The newsies started to come in groups towards newspaper row. The iron
gates were still closed and would remain closed for ten more minutes.
"You wanna sell a bit with us, Zack? You'd make some extra cash."
Spot asked.
Zack thought about it, "Eh, I'se got nothin' bettah to do. Shoah."
Seven minutes passed by and while more and more newsies started to
come the more nervuos Spot got. It would only take one Manhattan newsie
(besides Racetrack) to know that he was gay and the words would spread
faster than wild fire. They knew how to spread the word around here.
Three more minutes and then I can scram... Three minutes passed by
and just as Spot saw Jack he thought of something. He got closer to Zack
and whispered this, "I hate ta do dis but while we're 'round heah, we're
not ya know, tagethea, okay?"
Zack made a face but nodded. He didn't like the fact that he had to
hide his sexuality at all. But he had enough sense not to share it with
anyone who he didn't trust. He just wanted to kiss Spot then and there. He
didn't want to care what all the other people thought about him. But the
refrained from his desire and depressed over how he couldn't even hold
Spot's hand.
Jack walked over to Spot and glanced at Zack, "Who's dis?"
"A friend of mine; Zack, Jack, Jack, Zack."
The two nodded hellos to each other. "So you'se gonna be a newsie?"
"I'se already hava job but I need the extra cash for food and board."
The ringing of the bell was heard and the iron gates opened. Jack got his
spot in the front of the line followed by his girlfreind Gal, then Davey
followed by Les, then Racetrack followed by Spot and Zack.
What none of them knew or noticed, was a single Brooklyn newsie with
a baseball bat and that one newsie, Trace, moved himself to the front of
the line and hit Spot as hard as he could.
Spot woke up before the rest of the newsies. He climbed out of the
bunk bed and walked over to the washroom. He stripped down and took a nice
warm shower. Rafter, one of the Brooklyn Newsies had broken the hot water
pipe and it never was fixed. So Spot enjoyed his shower. He dried himself
off and put on every thing but his shirt. He took a good look at his back,
they hadn't added any new scars to his back, and a few fresh bruises where
there but nothing he couldn't handle, or hadn't taken before. He put his
shirt on and fixed his suspenders. He was jsut putting on his shoes when
Kloppman came up and woke everyone from their slumbers.
Words like "Carry the Banner" "Five moah minutes" "Get up Cowboy"
were heard. Groans and yawns. The older newsies shaved their slight
mustaches and beards to look their youngest. The younger newsies were more
awake and were humming the newest song they had heard from the homeless
musicians.
Spot Conlon was still sitting on his bed when Jack and Blink had
walked over to him. Jack had just tied his bandana. "Spot, what happened?"
"Nothing." Spot was fiddling with his shoe lace and not looking up.
Blink shook his head, "Spot, ya one of da toughest newsies around an'
heah ya are, all beat up an' not in Brooklyn, somedin had ta happen."
"Your right, but dat doesn't mean I'm gonna tell ya. Lemme alone."
"Spot, we wanna know what happened."
"Well ya not goin ta. Lemme the hell alone. I'm fine." Spot stopped
playing with his shoelace and stormed out of the lodging house.
He walked over to the nuns and grabbed a stale piece of bread; stale
bread for a stale mood. He couldn't have the newsies finding out his
secret. He just couldn't, he had already lost his position of the fearless
leader of the Brooklyn newsies. Now he was being the exact opposite. A
scared seventeen year old newsboy, but he couldn't even be a normal one.
What would Manhattan say when they all heard that the famous leader, with
all the looks, all the girls (so they thought, Spot smirked to himself) and
one of the best sellers didn't like girls? That he was gay, that he hated
keeping his secret. But in 1899, being gay was one of the things looked
down on the most. He was already beat up and kicked out of his own lodging
house. He only had one more place to go after Manhattan and no way in hell
did he want to go home.
Spot waited for Newspaper Row's iron gates to open. He had just
finished the last crumb of the stale bread when Racetrack came along. "Hey
Spot."
Spot nodded hello. His eyes were wandering off at nothing. He was
still out of it. But then his eyes stopped wandering and focused on a short
newsies with jet black hair and blue eyes. Zack...I wonder if he's alright.
.did they get to him? Spot cleared his throat, "Zack! Ovah heah."
Zack turned around and walked towards his boyfriend. "Spot...sarry I
ran last night, I was afraid dey would soak me...I shoulda stayed.."
"It's alright, listen, if ya stayed dey woulda killed ya, they tried
killin' me."
"I'm sarry Spot, who's dis?" Zack flicked his thumb over towards
Racetrack.
"Dis is one ofa my best freinds, Racetrack Higgins, meet Zack
Palicio. Dis is the guy Brooklyn caught me wid. My boyfreind." Spot
actually let a smile out with those last two words. The two boys shook
hands and said their hellos.
"Are ya a newsie?" Race asked.
Zack shook his head and some of his raven hair swished around. "I
work foah Medda, I clean up after her shows."
The newsies started to come in groups towards newspaper row. The iron
gates were still closed and would remain closed for ten more minutes.
"You wanna sell a bit with us, Zack? You'd make some extra cash."
Spot asked.
Zack thought about it, "Eh, I'se got nothin' bettah to do. Shoah."
Seven minutes passed by and while more and more newsies started to
come the more nervuos Spot got. It would only take one Manhattan newsie
(besides Racetrack) to know that he was gay and the words would spread
faster than wild fire. They knew how to spread the word around here.
Three more minutes and then I can scram... Three minutes passed by
and just as Spot saw Jack he thought of something. He got closer to Zack
and whispered this, "I hate ta do dis but while we're 'round heah, we're
not ya know, tagethea, okay?"
Zack made a face but nodded. He didn't like the fact that he had to
hide his sexuality at all. But he had enough sense not to share it with
anyone who he didn't trust. He just wanted to kiss Spot then and there. He
didn't want to care what all the other people thought about him. But the
refrained from his desire and depressed over how he couldn't even hold
Spot's hand.
Jack walked over to Spot and glanced at Zack, "Who's dis?"
"A friend of mine; Zack, Jack, Jack, Zack."
The two nodded hellos to each other. "So you'se gonna be a newsie?"
"I'se already hava job but I need the extra cash for food and board."
The ringing of the bell was heard and the iron gates opened. Jack got his
spot in the front of the line followed by his girlfreind Gal, then Davey
followed by Les, then Racetrack followed by Spot and Zack.
What none of them knew or noticed, was a single Brooklyn newsie with
a baseball bat and that one newsie, Trace, moved himself to the front of
the line and hit Spot as hard as he could.