Title: Fiver's Follies
Author: Noodle
Contact: sleeveofcrackers@hotmail.com
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Continuation of chapter one.
Chapter Two
"I'm a what?" Fiver asked, taken aback. She hadn't counted on being taken in anywhere; she just wanted shelter for the night.
"You're a Brooklyn newsie, Fiver. An honor not bestowed on many," Dodger said, then aside to Noodle, "And you'd better remember that." She squirmed uncomfortably.
Fiver startled. "Um, thank you?" she managed to sputter.
"You. don't seem very happy about this," Noodle said, reading Fiver's expression. She shot a glance at Dodger, who had returned to the poker game, and was oblivious to her gaze. "We'll talk about it," she looked at Dodger nervously, "somewhere else."
Noodle grabbed Fiver by the collar of her shirt, and dragged her up the staircase, and into the girl's bunk. Noodle hastily greeted the few girls that were home, and said, "Fiver, the new kid- be nice," before any of them could ask. She finally stopped in a desolate corner of the room.
"Ok. What's the problem?" Noodle asked, pacing the floor as Fiver sat on an empty bed.
"Well, you never said anything about me being a newsie. I'm, well, I'm sure as hell not a newsie. I couldn't sell food to the starving. I was just looking for somewhere to stay the night, I wasn't looking for a home," Fiver explained. "And stop pacing. It makes me nervous."
Noodle paused. "I was trying to do you a favor. You looked lonely. You looked like you needed a friend. And you're lucky to have run into me. You wouldn't have made it a week out on the streets."
Fiver nearly chocked. "You ran in to me. And I would have done just fine on my own," she growled.
Noodle extracted a small coin pouch from her pocket. "This look familiar?"
Fiver snatched it from Noodle's grasp. "How'd you get that?"
"You really should be more careful about where you keep your money. I got it when I ran into you. But I'm sure you didn't need that money anyway," Noodle drawled.
Fiver scowled. "Fine. You got me. I'll be more careful. But don't count on me sticking around. Or selling newspapers."
"Fine."
"Fine."
"Good."
"Hey Noodle, Dodge's at the door. Wants ta talk to ya. Should I let 'im in?" a young newsgirl said. She looked all of six years old.
"No, I'll meet him out there," Noodle replied. "And Rachel? Keep Fiver company. Show her the ropes. Tell her the rules, you know? She may look big, but she's got a lot to learn, ok kiddo?"
Rachel grinned a partially toothless grin, and nodded. "I'll be da best teacha' this sida Brooklyn," she said.
"Don't be too hard on her," Noodle warned.
"I won't," both Fiver and Rachel replied. They glared at each other, then looked questioningly at Noodle.
"I was talking to Rachel," she said. Fiver pouted as Rachel grinned smugly. "Alright, just don't kill each other by the time I get back." Noodle smiled and winked at Rachel before leaving the room.
"Foist things foist. I'm gonna take ya on a tour of da Boathouse. This room's da goil's bunkroom. Where us goils sleep. No boys unless Noodle says it's ok; she's da boss. Dodge too. And Spot's botha them's boss, an-"
"Who's Spot? What kind of idiot would let people call him 'Spot'? May as well call him 'Stain' or 'Smudge,'" Fiver said laughing.
"I wouldn't say dat if I was you. Spot Conlon is da most feahed and repected newsie in all New York. 'Sides, he's me big bruddah," she said cockily. "Anyway, Smudge lives in da Uppa West Side, and Stain got killed last yeah in a knife fight, rest 'is soul."
Fiver blanched. "You're joking, right?"
"Ya don't know me very well, do ya? 'Course I am. But not about bein' Conlon's kid sis, be sure a that," Rachel replied, her stormy grey eyes glittering mischievously. "I still don't understand. Why should I be afraid of someone named Spot. I used to have a dog named Spot, and he was a sweet little mutt. He'd follow me around, whining for my attention," Fiver reminisced. Rachel looked at her quizzically. "Yeah. Dat's. nice. My bruddah may not be big an' tough, but he don't need ta be. He's real cleva', real smaht wit stuff. When he tawks, dey listen. Dat's how he got people to be big an' tough for 'im," she explained. "I see. So where is he?" Fiver asked, looking around the room. Rachel laughed. "He ain't heah. He's at da main Brooklyn house," she said. "So, what's this place? I thought it was the main house," Fiver said, confusedly. Rachel guffawed. "Dis is da place my bruddah sends all da Brooklyn rejects. If ya screw up, ya go heah. If he don't like ya, ya go heah. If ya get in his way, ya go heah," she said, the smile slowly fading from her face. "Then why are you here? Doesn't he want to keep an eye on you?" Fiver asked. "Damn, ya ask a ton a questions, don'tcha? Noodle keeps an eye on me. I messed up. So I had ta come heah," she said, bristling. "Some brother you got there. Doesn't even look over his own kid sister," Fiver muttered to herself. "We may not live tagetha, but dat don't mean he don't care," Rachel growled, her eyes narrowing viciously. "Don't make me laugh," Fiver said, a sinister smile tugging the corners of her mouth. "Just rememba, 'round heah, you'se scum," Rachel said, " Lowa' den low."
"Gee. Thanks. The toothless kid says I'm scum," Fiver muttered to herself.
"Dat's da truth, an' don'tcha forget it," Rachel warned teasingly. She turned the stubborn doorknob of the girl's bunkroom, and gave the door a kick. The door stopped abruptly, and a sharp cry erupted from behind it.
"Figures," the voice muttered.
"Sorry," Rachel sighed. "It's Lucky," she said to Fiver.
"Lucky?" Fiver said questioningly.
A short bespectacled girl appeared from behind the door, rubbing her nose. "It's supposed to be ironic. All the times I get hit by stuff, and I never get used to it," she groaned irately.
"I see. I'm Fiver. Not ironic, but it suits me just fine," Fiver said, extending a hand to Lucky, who looked apprehensively at Rachel. "Noodle's latest 'recruit'," Rachel whispered. "Ah. I shouldn't get too attached, then," she said, bemusedly. Fiver gave Rachel a questioning look. "What's that supposed to mean?" she insisted. Lucky smiled drolly. "Nothing. Enjoy your stay here. Just. don't get too comfortable." Rachel laughed loudly, but quickly silenced when she saw the look on Fiver's face. Not nearly amused. "She don't mean it, do ya?" Rachel asked Lucky. Lucky shrugged in a non-committal sort of way, and squeezed past them, into the bunkroom. Fiver scowled at her wake, then turned her glare back to Rachel, who half-smiled back at her. "Can we please move on?" she finally said. "Sure. Washroom's next. See? Right dere." She pointed down the hall to a half-opened door. "Make sure ya go in dat one. Da one across da hall is the boy's. An' if ya go in," She gulped, "Ya might neva come back out." Fiver looked across the hall skeptically. "Huh. Might just have to check that out sometime," she muttered to herself. Rachel tugged at Fiver's bag. "Are ya comin', or isn'tcha?" she whined, pulling the bag. "I'm coming. And don't touch that," Fiver growled, placing a protective arm over her bag. The bag was patched and filthy on the outside; only Fiver knew what was held within. "Geeze, ya don't gotta be so touchy," Rachel said, leading Fiver down the narrow hallway to the washroom. She opened the door, and a cloud of smoke flew out. "Twitch! No smokin' in da house!" "I just needed a quick one, no harm, no foul, Rach, dunna tell Noodle," said Twitch frantically. She was shaking, and Fiver was amazed she could hold onto the cigarette that she kept taking neurotically puffs from. "Put dat thing out!" Rachel insisted, snatching the butt from Twitch's shaking hand, and squishing it out with her foot. Fiver looked at Tweak strangely. "Um. Hi. I'm Fiver," she said, offering her hand hesitantly. Twitch's hand met hers, and shook it abruptly. "Hey Five, I'm Twitch. Got a light? Ye smoke? Got a cig? Ye want one? What brings ye here?" she said, smiling queerly. Fiver looked back at her dubiously. "Uh, I do, but, I'm out. Mind if I ask where you're from? Your accent sounds. strange," she said. "Britain. Heard of it? 'Cross the pond, it is. Well. Nice t' meet yeh, I'd best be on me way," Twich replied, grinning and puffing. "Ah. See you around, then," Fiver said, as Twitch squeezed past them, and ran down the stairs. "Don't worry 'bout her. She's off her rocker. Can't go ten minutes witout a cig. But she's an ace at poker. None a da guys here can beat 'er," Rachel said, grinning proudly. "Anyways, here's da washroom. Toilets is ova against da left wall. Showa's an' tubs is on da right, and sinks is straight across. It's crazy in da mornin's, or before a get-tagetha with otha newsies. It's best ya get up early, an' wash quickly. Da hot wata runs out pretty fast." Fiver looked about the large washroom. It was kept neat, but the fixtures were rather old, and could use replacing. Everything, however, was in working order, and there were rarely any problems that couldn't be fixed with quick tinkering by Dodger, according to Rachel. "Is that it? I think I should go find Noodle," Fiver said, making an excuse to get away from the little Conlon. "Nope, there's lots more. I haven't even showed ya the swimmin' hole. Or da kitchen, da roof, or da boy's bunk,' Rachel said, grinning. She loved having a captive audience, hell, any audience. Being one of the younger newsies, not to mention a girl, she was often overlooked and ignored. Fiver sighed. "Do I really have to see all that? I mean, it's not like I'm going to get lost. I'll do just fine," she said, annoyed. "Noodle's in charge a dat. Until she says so, you's wit me," Rachel insisted. She wasn't about to lose her audience now. Fiver reddened. "I'm old enough to walk around a silly lodging house by myself. I don't need a short, annoying escort! Now piss off, before I-" she shouted. "Before ya what?" a bemused voice from behind her said all too calmly. Rachel's face went from astoundingly hurt, to grinning viciously. Fiver spun around, and found herself face to face with Spot Conlon. Not that she was aware of that fact. "This is between me and the kid," Fiver growled. "Dat 'kid' is my sista. It'd be in ya best inarest ta back off," said Spot, ever-so smoothly. Grace under pressure, that was his strength. Fiver started. "You're Spot Conlon? You?" she said, choking back laughter. "Dats what dey calls me," Spot replied coolly. He gave Fiver an appraising look. Hm, not bad, he thought, nice enough figure, blonde hair, I do like them blondes.But she's not good with kids. Not Rach anyway. "An' what do dey call you?" "Fiver," she answered curtly. I don't trust him as far as I can throw him.However, with the right headwind. "Huh. Inerestin' name. I don't know ya, ya new 'round here?" he asked. It was his right to ask, after all, this lodging house was under his supervision, and any lodgers would answer to him. Or pay the consequence, he thought, smirking slightly. "I just got here tonight. What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in Brooklyn, aren't you?" she asked. Although she was "scum", she thought, as a lodger, she felt she had the right to know why Spot Conlon was wasting his time here. "Business brings me ta da boathouse," Spot said, as Rachel gave an angry huff. "An' Rachel," he said gently, tousling her hair. Rachel smiled adoringly up at him. "Well. Isn't this a touching moment. Excuse me, so I can go be sick somewhere," Fiver deadpanned. She turned to go, but Spot had grabbed the strap of her bag. She whipped back around, and she slapped his hand off her bag. "Never. Touch. My. Bag," she growled viciously. Spot smiled subtly. "Sorry. I'll keep dat in mind," he said slyly, tapping the side of his head. Sooner or later, he thought to himself, I'll find out what's in that bag. Rachel read the determined expression on his face like a school primer, and smirked. "Now I see the resemblance," Fiver muttered, noting the identical smirks each Conlon wore. She pushed past the lithe form of the elder Conlon, and stomped furiously to the nearest room. Spot and Rachel exchanged identical mischievous glances. They knew something that Fiver did not. But in moments, she would. Fiver burst out of the room, spouting obscenities. "What the hell is in that room?" she shouted angrily. Rachel looked at Spot innocently. "I dunno, I thought it was the broom closet," she said, rocking back and forth on her heels. Muffled cursing and fumbling noises emanated from the broom closet. "I told you to lock it!" someone shouted, followed by more shuffling of feet and sounds of falling objects. "Ow!" Wonder who's in there, Spot thought to himself. He grinned, thinking of the possibilities. Well, look's like they're waiting for the coast to clear. He bent over and whispered into Rachel's ear. "Check fa' bumped heads t'morra. A leada's gotta be in da know," he said, smiling.
"It's gettin' late, Spot. Ya gonna stay the night? We oughta be gettin' ta bed," Rachel said, trying not to yawn. It had been a full day for the young newsgirl, and tomorrow promised to be quite the adventure.
"Yeah, there's a free bed wit my name on it. I'll see ya in da mornin'," replied Spot, bending over to kiss his diminutive sister on the forehead.
Chapter Two
"I'm a what?" Fiver asked, taken aback. She hadn't counted on being taken in anywhere; she just wanted shelter for the night.
"You're a Brooklyn newsie, Fiver. An honor not bestowed on many," Dodger said, then aside to Noodle, "And you'd better remember that." She squirmed uncomfortably.
Fiver startled. "Um, thank you?" she managed to sputter.
"You. don't seem very happy about this," Noodle said, reading Fiver's expression. She shot a glance at Dodger, who had returned to the poker game, and was oblivious to her gaze. "We'll talk about it," she looked at Dodger nervously, "somewhere else."
Noodle grabbed Fiver by the collar of her shirt, and dragged her up the staircase, and into the girl's bunk. Noodle hastily greeted the few girls that were home, and said, "Fiver, the new kid- be nice," before any of them could ask. She finally stopped in a desolate corner of the room.
"Ok. What's the problem?" Noodle asked, pacing the floor as Fiver sat on an empty bed.
"Well, you never said anything about me being a newsie. I'm, well, I'm sure as hell not a newsie. I couldn't sell food to the starving. I was just looking for somewhere to stay the night, I wasn't looking for a home," Fiver explained. "And stop pacing. It makes me nervous."
Noodle paused. "I was trying to do you a favor. You looked lonely. You looked like you needed a friend. And you're lucky to have run into me. You wouldn't have made it a week out on the streets."
Fiver nearly chocked. "You ran in to me. And I would have done just fine on my own," she growled.
Noodle extracted a small coin pouch from her pocket. "This look familiar?"
Fiver snatched it from Noodle's grasp. "How'd you get that?"
"You really should be more careful about where you keep your money. I got it when I ran into you. But I'm sure you didn't need that money anyway," Noodle drawled.
Fiver scowled. "Fine. You got me. I'll be more careful. But don't count on me sticking around. Or selling newspapers."
"Fine."
"Fine."
"Good."
"Hey Noodle, Dodge's at the door. Wants ta talk to ya. Should I let 'im in?" a young newsgirl said. She looked all of six years old.
"No, I'll meet him out there," Noodle replied. "And Rachel? Keep Fiver company. Show her the ropes. Tell her the rules, you know? She may look big, but she's got a lot to learn, ok kiddo?"
Rachel grinned a partially toothless grin, and nodded. "I'll be da best teacha' this sida Brooklyn," she said.
"Don't be too hard on her," Noodle warned.
"I won't," both Fiver and Rachel replied. They glared at each other, then looked questioningly at Noodle.
"I was talking to Rachel," she said. Fiver pouted as Rachel grinned smugly. "Alright, just don't kill each other by the time I get back." Noodle smiled and winked at Rachel before leaving the room.
"Foist things foist. I'm gonna take ya on a tour of da Boathouse. This room's da goil's bunkroom. Where us goils sleep. No boys unless Noodle says it's ok; she's da boss. Dodge too. And Spot's botha them's boss, an-"
"Who's Spot? What kind of idiot would let people call him 'Spot'? May as well call him 'Stain' or 'Smudge,'" Fiver said laughing.
"I wouldn't say dat if I was you. Spot Conlon is da most feahed and repected newsie in all New York. 'Sides, he's me big bruddah," she said cockily. "Anyway, Smudge lives in da Uppa West Side, and Stain got killed last yeah in a knife fight, rest 'is soul."
Fiver blanched. "You're joking, right?"
"Ya don't know me very well, do ya? 'Course I am. But not about bein' Conlon's kid sis, be sure a that," Rachel replied, her stormy grey eyes glittering mischievously. "I still don't understand. Why should I be afraid of someone named Spot. I used to have a dog named Spot, and he was a sweet little mutt. He'd follow me around, whining for my attention," Fiver reminisced. Rachel looked at her quizzically. "Yeah. Dat's. nice. My bruddah may not be big an' tough, but he don't need ta be. He's real cleva', real smaht wit stuff. When he tawks, dey listen. Dat's how he got people to be big an' tough for 'im," she explained. "I see. So where is he?" Fiver asked, looking around the room. Rachel laughed. "He ain't heah. He's at da main Brooklyn house," she said. "So, what's this place? I thought it was the main house," Fiver said, confusedly. Rachel guffawed. "Dis is da place my bruddah sends all da Brooklyn rejects. If ya screw up, ya go heah. If he don't like ya, ya go heah. If ya get in his way, ya go heah," she said, the smile slowly fading from her face. "Then why are you here? Doesn't he want to keep an eye on you?" Fiver asked. "Damn, ya ask a ton a questions, don'tcha? Noodle keeps an eye on me. I messed up. So I had ta come heah," she said, bristling. "Some brother you got there. Doesn't even look over his own kid sister," Fiver muttered to herself. "We may not live tagetha, but dat don't mean he don't care," Rachel growled, her eyes narrowing viciously. "Don't make me laugh," Fiver said, a sinister smile tugging the corners of her mouth. "Just rememba, 'round heah, you'se scum," Rachel said, " Lowa' den low."
"Gee. Thanks. The toothless kid says I'm scum," Fiver muttered to herself.
"Dat's da truth, an' don'tcha forget it," Rachel warned teasingly. She turned the stubborn doorknob of the girl's bunkroom, and gave the door a kick. The door stopped abruptly, and a sharp cry erupted from behind it.
"Figures," the voice muttered.
"Sorry," Rachel sighed. "It's Lucky," she said to Fiver.
"Lucky?" Fiver said questioningly.
A short bespectacled girl appeared from behind the door, rubbing her nose. "It's supposed to be ironic. All the times I get hit by stuff, and I never get used to it," she groaned irately.
"I see. I'm Fiver. Not ironic, but it suits me just fine," Fiver said, extending a hand to Lucky, who looked apprehensively at Rachel. "Noodle's latest 'recruit'," Rachel whispered. "Ah. I shouldn't get too attached, then," she said, bemusedly. Fiver gave Rachel a questioning look. "What's that supposed to mean?" she insisted. Lucky smiled drolly. "Nothing. Enjoy your stay here. Just. don't get too comfortable." Rachel laughed loudly, but quickly silenced when she saw the look on Fiver's face. Not nearly amused. "She don't mean it, do ya?" Rachel asked Lucky. Lucky shrugged in a non-committal sort of way, and squeezed past them, into the bunkroom. Fiver scowled at her wake, then turned her glare back to Rachel, who half-smiled back at her. "Can we please move on?" she finally said. "Sure. Washroom's next. See? Right dere." She pointed down the hall to a half-opened door. "Make sure ya go in dat one. Da one across da hall is the boy's. An' if ya go in," She gulped, "Ya might neva come back out." Fiver looked across the hall skeptically. "Huh. Might just have to check that out sometime," she muttered to herself. Rachel tugged at Fiver's bag. "Are ya comin', or isn'tcha?" she whined, pulling the bag. "I'm coming. And don't touch that," Fiver growled, placing a protective arm over her bag. The bag was patched and filthy on the outside; only Fiver knew what was held within. "Geeze, ya don't gotta be so touchy," Rachel said, leading Fiver down the narrow hallway to the washroom. She opened the door, and a cloud of smoke flew out. "Twitch! No smokin' in da house!" "I just needed a quick one, no harm, no foul, Rach, dunna tell Noodle," said Twitch frantically. She was shaking, and Fiver was amazed she could hold onto the cigarette that she kept taking neurotically puffs from. "Put dat thing out!" Rachel insisted, snatching the butt from Twitch's shaking hand, and squishing it out with her foot. Fiver looked at Tweak strangely. "Um. Hi. I'm Fiver," she said, offering her hand hesitantly. Twitch's hand met hers, and shook it abruptly. "Hey Five, I'm Twitch. Got a light? Ye smoke? Got a cig? Ye want one? What brings ye here?" she said, smiling queerly. Fiver looked back at her dubiously. "Uh, I do, but, I'm out. Mind if I ask where you're from? Your accent sounds. strange," she said. "Britain. Heard of it? 'Cross the pond, it is. Well. Nice t' meet yeh, I'd best be on me way," Twich replied, grinning and puffing. "Ah. See you around, then," Fiver said, as Twitch squeezed past them, and ran down the stairs. "Don't worry 'bout her. She's off her rocker. Can't go ten minutes witout a cig. But she's an ace at poker. None a da guys here can beat 'er," Rachel said, grinning proudly. "Anyways, here's da washroom. Toilets is ova against da left wall. Showa's an' tubs is on da right, and sinks is straight across. It's crazy in da mornin's, or before a get-tagetha with otha newsies. It's best ya get up early, an' wash quickly. Da hot wata runs out pretty fast." Fiver looked about the large washroom. It was kept neat, but the fixtures were rather old, and could use replacing. Everything, however, was in working order, and there were rarely any problems that couldn't be fixed with quick tinkering by Dodger, according to Rachel. "Is that it? I think I should go find Noodle," Fiver said, making an excuse to get away from the little Conlon. "Nope, there's lots more. I haven't even showed ya the swimmin' hole. Or da kitchen, da roof, or da boy's bunk,' Rachel said, grinning. She loved having a captive audience, hell, any audience. Being one of the younger newsies, not to mention a girl, she was often overlooked and ignored. Fiver sighed. "Do I really have to see all that? I mean, it's not like I'm going to get lost. I'll do just fine," she said, annoyed. "Noodle's in charge a dat. Until she says so, you's wit me," Rachel insisted. She wasn't about to lose her audience now. Fiver reddened. "I'm old enough to walk around a silly lodging house by myself. I don't need a short, annoying escort! Now piss off, before I-" she shouted. "Before ya what?" a bemused voice from behind her said all too calmly. Rachel's face went from astoundingly hurt, to grinning viciously. Fiver spun around, and found herself face to face with Spot Conlon. Not that she was aware of that fact. "This is between me and the kid," Fiver growled. "Dat 'kid' is my sista. It'd be in ya best inarest ta back off," said Spot, ever-so smoothly. Grace under pressure, that was his strength. Fiver started. "You're Spot Conlon? You?" she said, choking back laughter. "Dats what dey calls me," Spot replied coolly. He gave Fiver an appraising look. Hm, not bad, he thought, nice enough figure, blonde hair, I do like them blondes.But she's not good with kids. Not Rach anyway. "An' what do dey call you?" "Fiver," she answered curtly. I don't trust him as far as I can throw him.However, with the right headwind. "Huh. Inerestin' name. I don't know ya, ya new 'round here?" he asked. It was his right to ask, after all, this lodging house was under his supervision, and any lodgers would answer to him. Or pay the consequence, he thought, smirking slightly. "I just got here tonight. What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in Brooklyn, aren't you?" she asked. Although she was "scum", she thought, as a lodger, she felt she had the right to know why Spot Conlon was wasting his time here. "Business brings me ta da boathouse," Spot said, as Rachel gave an angry huff. "An' Rachel," he said gently, tousling her hair. Rachel smiled adoringly up at him. "Well. Isn't this a touching moment. Excuse me, so I can go be sick somewhere," Fiver deadpanned. She turned to go, but Spot had grabbed the strap of her bag. She whipped back around, and she slapped his hand off her bag. "Never. Touch. My. Bag," she growled viciously. Spot smiled subtly. "Sorry. I'll keep dat in mind," he said slyly, tapping the side of his head. Sooner or later, he thought to himself, I'll find out what's in that bag. Rachel read the determined expression on his face like a school primer, and smirked. "Now I see the resemblance," Fiver muttered, noting the identical smirks each Conlon wore. She pushed past the lithe form of the elder Conlon, and stomped furiously to the nearest room. Spot and Rachel exchanged identical mischievous glances. They knew something that Fiver did not. But in moments, she would. Fiver burst out of the room, spouting obscenities. "What the hell is in that room?" she shouted angrily. Rachel looked at Spot innocently. "I dunno, I thought it was the broom closet," she said, rocking back and forth on her heels. Muffled cursing and fumbling noises emanated from the broom closet. "I told you to lock it!" someone shouted, followed by more shuffling of feet and sounds of falling objects. "Ow!" Wonder who's in there, Spot thought to himself. He grinned, thinking of the possibilities. Well, look's like they're waiting for the coast to clear. He bent over and whispered into Rachel's ear. "Check fa' bumped heads t'morra. A leada's gotta be in da know," he said, smiling.
"It's gettin' late, Spot. Ya gonna stay the night? We oughta be gettin' ta bed," Rachel said, trying not to yawn. It had been a full day for the young newsgirl, and tomorrow promised to be quite the adventure.
"Yeah, there's a free bed wit my name on it. I'll see ya in da mornin'," replied Spot, bending over to kiss his diminutive sister on the forehead.