*~*~*
The Newsie Princess Of Brooklyn
*~*~*
The next morning, I went to eat breakfast with Spot. We hadn't really talked in a while, and he wanted to catch up with me. I knew he thought something was wrong with me, and wouldn't hesitate to say something about it, but I agreed to go just as well. A girl has to eat sometime.
It was a big meal. Eggs, bacon, toast with jam, oatmeal and black coffee- the same thing Spot and I had been ordering since the beginning of time. I was starving on the way over but once my food came I only picked erratically at my eggs, my appetite suddenly gone. We managed to make small talk for a while, the words flowing between us becoming more and more strained as we conversed about sports and the bridge and finally, desperately, weather, until at last an uncomfortable silence fell on our table. I took a sip of my coffee, willing myself not to make eye contact with him as I waited for him to break the silence.
"Sam," he said at last, "what's wrong with you?"
"What do you mean?" I said innocently.
"You been actin' strange lately," he said. "Like a goil in love."
It was a joke to him, of course, as it would have been to anyone else. I slept in the lodging house with all the other newsies, could sell a hundred papes a day and defend myself as good as any boy, maybe even better than some. The idea of me doing something stupid like falling in love was, needless to say, completely out of the question.
"Sammy?" Spot said, when I didn't answer for a time. I looked up at him miserably. "Oh, shit," said Spot. "You aint joking?"
Did I really need to answer?
"Well who is it?" he prompted. "Tell me. I won't make fun."
"I can't. It's too embarrassing."
"C'mon, Sammy," he said impatiently. "It can't be that bad. It's not like you're sweet on Jack." He began to laugh at the very thought of it, only stopping when he saw the look on my face. "Sam. Yer not serious." I shook my head. "I can't believe it. My little sister has the hots for Jack Kelly."
"Aw, shut your pie-hole, Spot."
"You know, if you wasn't my sister, I'd-"
"Yeh, and if you wasn't my brother I'd do the same." I looked up at him. "This isn't funny, you know."
"I know it aint," he said. "I know it. Jesus, Sam, how long has this thing been goin' on?"
"I dunno," I mumbled. "Few months. But it doesn't matter anyhow. He's got Sarah now, remember?"
"Oh, Sarah," he said dismissively.
"Oh, Sarah," I mimicked.
"Sam, do you really think she's worthy competition for you? I bet she can't even cuss proper."
"And you think that's a bad thing?" I laughed.
"Sure it is," he said seriously. "Sam, if Jack don't want you then he don't know what he wants. 'Cause you're the newsie princess of Brooklyn, and no goil can do better than that."
I couldn't help but smile. Spot's kindness was rarely visible, but when it came out it was sincere as anything and always badly needed. Even if I didn't believe him, I could still take comfort in his words.
"Thanks, Spot," I said quietly.
"You feel better now?"
"Yeh."
"Good," he said, grinning. "Now eat your eggs."
*~*~*
It would be nearly a week before I heard the name Jack Kelly again, but when I did it was to be connected to the best news I had heard in months. Spot was the one who told me, sidling proudly over to tell me while I stood on my street-corner shouting that Roosevelt had just died--Margaret Roosevelt, aged nineteen, that I: on a slow day, the obits can be a newsie's most useful tool).
"Sam," he said, "you'll never guess what just happened." I looked at him inquisitively. "I just talked to Jack. He wants you t' come over tomorrow night. For dinner."
For a split-second I thought *this is it-this is it-he finally knows*--but then I caught myself. There had to be some sort of catch. "Alone?" I asked stupidly, unable to stop myself.
"Well, no," Spot said reluctantly. "At the Jacobses."
"This might be news to you, Spot, but it don't count as a date if his girlfriend's there."
"I know, but still...it's something, aint it?"
"Yeh," I said, halfheartedly, "it's something."
"Sam, this is your chance-you know that, don't you?"
I sighed. "Don't you think it isn't right to try to steal him from Sarah? He's completely in love with her, anyone with half a brain can see that."
Spot grinned. "That's 'cause he don't know better, sis. But we'll fix that-just you wait."
*~*~*
TBC... P.S.-great big mutant shout-outs from space to anyone and everyone who reviewed or even read. I hope you like the saga just as much as the first chapter...anyone who thinks of the meanest thing possible to do to Sarah Jacobs gets tickets to New York City circa 1899 and a free meal at Tibby's for you and your favorite newsie...and remember, my fellow fanficcers: summaries don't sell fics-fanficcers sell fics.
The Newsie Princess Of Brooklyn
*~*~*
The next morning, I went to eat breakfast with Spot. We hadn't really talked in a while, and he wanted to catch up with me. I knew he thought something was wrong with me, and wouldn't hesitate to say something about it, but I agreed to go just as well. A girl has to eat sometime.
It was a big meal. Eggs, bacon, toast with jam, oatmeal and black coffee- the same thing Spot and I had been ordering since the beginning of time. I was starving on the way over but once my food came I only picked erratically at my eggs, my appetite suddenly gone. We managed to make small talk for a while, the words flowing between us becoming more and more strained as we conversed about sports and the bridge and finally, desperately, weather, until at last an uncomfortable silence fell on our table. I took a sip of my coffee, willing myself not to make eye contact with him as I waited for him to break the silence.
"Sam," he said at last, "what's wrong with you?"
"What do you mean?" I said innocently.
"You been actin' strange lately," he said. "Like a goil in love."
It was a joke to him, of course, as it would have been to anyone else. I slept in the lodging house with all the other newsies, could sell a hundred papes a day and defend myself as good as any boy, maybe even better than some. The idea of me doing something stupid like falling in love was, needless to say, completely out of the question.
"Sammy?" Spot said, when I didn't answer for a time. I looked up at him miserably. "Oh, shit," said Spot. "You aint joking?"
Did I really need to answer?
"Well who is it?" he prompted. "Tell me. I won't make fun."
"I can't. It's too embarrassing."
"C'mon, Sammy," he said impatiently. "It can't be that bad. It's not like you're sweet on Jack." He began to laugh at the very thought of it, only stopping when he saw the look on my face. "Sam. Yer not serious." I shook my head. "I can't believe it. My little sister has the hots for Jack Kelly."
"Aw, shut your pie-hole, Spot."
"You know, if you wasn't my sister, I'd-"
"Yeh, and if you wasn't my brother I'd do the same." I looked up at him. "This isn't funny, you know."
"I know it aint," he said. "I know it. Jesus, Sam, how long has this thing been goin' on?"
"I dunno," I mumbled. "Few months. But it doesn't matter anyhow. He's got Sarah now, remember?"
"Oh, Sarah," he said dismissively.
"Oh, Sarah," I mimicked.
"Sam, do you really think she's worthy competition for you? I bet she can't even cuss proper."
"And you think that's a bad thing?" I laughed.
"Sure it is," he said seriously. "Sam, if Jack don't want you then he don't know what he wants. 'Cause you're the newsie princess of Brooklyn, and no goil can do better than that."
I couldn't help but smile. Spot's kindness was rarely visible, but when it came out it was sincere as anything and always badly needed. Even if I didn't believe him, I could still take comfort in his words.
"Thanks, Spot," I said quietly.
"You feel better now?"
"Yeh."
"Good," he said, grinning. "Now eat your eggs."
*~*~*
It would be nearly a week before I heard the name Jack Kelly again, but when I did it was to be connected to the best news I had heard in months. Spot was the one who told me, sidling proudly over to tell me while I stood on my street-corner shouting that Roosevelt had just died--Margaret Roosevelt, aged nineteen, that I: on a slow day, the obits can be a newsie's most useful tool).
"Sam," he said, "you'll never guess what just happened." I looked at him inquisitively. "I just talked to Jack. He wants you t' come over tomorrow night. For dinner."
For a split-second I thought *this is it-this is it-he finally knows*--but then I caught myself. There had to be some sort of catch. "Alone?" I asked stupidly, unable to stop myself.
"Well, no," Spot said reluctantly. "At the Jacobses."
"This might be news to you, Spot, but it don't count as a date if his girlfriend's there."
"I know, but still...it's something, aint it?"
"Yeh," I said, halfheartedly, "it's something."
"Sam, this is your chance-you know that, don't you?"
I sighed. "Don't you think it isn't right to try to steal him from Sarah? He's completely in love with her, anyone with half a brain can see that."
Spot grinned. "That's 'cause he don't know better, sis. But we'll fix that-just you wait."
*~*~*
TBC... P.S.-great big mutant shout-outs from space to anyone and everyone who reviewed or even read. I hope you like the saga just as much as the first chapter...anyone who thinks of the meanest thing possible to do to Sarah Jacobs gets tickets to New York City circa 1899 and a free meal at Tibby's for you and your favorite newsie...and remember, my fellow fanficcers: summaries don't sell fics-fanficcers sell fics.