I smiled as I entered the upper floor of the clubhouse, seeing Fishface,
who had washed her hair and let if fall loose again. I had to admit, she
looked great. She shot me one of her million-dollar smiles, and for the
first time in awhile, it wasn't tainted.
"I heard Cowboy wrote ya," I said as cheery as I could be.
She grinned and nodded, "Yeah, says he'll have a ranch soon and I can go out there with 'im." Her eyes were positively glowing with delight, then she hushed a little bit, and with a giggle she said, "He asked me if I'd marry him. Don't tell Spot or Kerry, please, but I think I might say yes."
I smiled, Fishface was one of those people who deserved that sort of thing. Plus, she was incredibly annoying when she wasn't with Jack.
"Here, let me read some of it to you," She looked at me as if it would be the one thing in the world that would make her happy.
"Sure, go ahead," I said in a monotone. My brain was traveling back to her brother and what he'd done and said out on the docks. 'I just get jealous sometimes. that's all.'
"'Dear Fishface,'" I remembered when Spot had pointed out to her that the Cowboy didn't know her real name, I wondered if he still didn't, "'I'm sorry for not writing sooner. I've almost got a ranch and a house and everything set up for us here in Santa Fe. I can't wait until you come to join me. When you do, I wanted to ask you, and I should have asked you in person, but I just can't wait any longer, will you marry me? I await your reply. Love, Jack.' Ain't that romantic?" She fell back on her mattress by the window, pulling the letter down onto her chest and closing her eyes.
"You love 'im, don't ya?" I asked her, sitting down myself.
"Yeah, I do," She said, opening her eyes, "It's like, every breath I take is better because I know it's the same air he breathes." She gave me a half- smile, "You know what I mean. It's how Kerry feels about you."
"Does. Jack know your real name?" I asked her, not out of curiosity, but for an explanation, as to why he didn't know perhaps.
Fishface shrugged, "I don't know, he never had a reason to know it." She paused, "Until now." She gazed at that special finger, "I wonder what our wedding rings would look like." She mused with herself, but then looked back up at me, "So how have you been lately? I was a little bit. out of the loop without Jack around, didn't pay much attention to anything.Say, I'm hungry, and from the looks of it, it's around dinnertime, you wanta get somethin' to eat with me?" I noticed how she lacked the thick Scottish accent her brother had, but I assumed that if Kerry had been eight, then she would have been very young, and could have easily dropped her accent. She still favored him quite a bit though. They had the same tone of brown hair, the same bright blue eyes. They even had similar smiles. I don't know how I could have missed it before.
Fishface, unexpectedly, had a quarter in her pocket. Apparently, Jack had left her two dollars, just in case. I'm not sure what 'just in case' meant, but she didn't elaborate before she went on to tell me ALL about Jack Kelly and how great he was. In reality, I envied her, she had found her perfect love, and here I was confused as to whether or not real love actually existed. We entered the small restaurant near the bridge, she said it was her favorite place to eat when she was in Brooklyn, that Spot used to take her there all the time. The thought of this made me want to puke, but I knew that she only loved Spot as a brother. she'd said so herself. Many times. Within 30 seconds.
It was a long meal to share with someone with that much energy. Honestly, I'm not sure where she hid all that energy. She was just like everyone else, she didn't get too much to eat; she didn't sleep much at nights, yet she was as perky as a Chihuahua. It perplexed me.
The sun had set while we had eaten, and Fishface was still jabbering by the time we made it to the docks. I swear, the girl had so much to say it almost made me miss her crying. I suppose if the man I loved asked me to marry him I'd be giddy too.
Fishface had gone in ahead of me. I wanted to take a good look at the stars before I went to bed, when something---someone came stumbling onto the docks. I turned around and saw a familiar figure. Oh God no, not Kerry.
He approached me, his stride was crooked, but I could tell, he could hold his liquor better than Spot Conlon. He brushed his ink-stained hand across my face, "Heya Shortstack," his voice cracked on the last syllable of my nickname, and I flinched. I hated seeing him like this. I always knew that Kerry had been "fond of the pint". He even admitted that he loved to drink. He also admitted that it got him into quite a bit of trouble as well. The night he'd grabbed me off the streets of Brooklyn he had been drinking, and Spot Conlon's thick Brooklyn accent echoed in my mind, 'I'd give ya a good soaking if there wasn't a lady present'.
I could smell how much liquor he'd had on his breath. He was trying his best to keep his eyes in focus, I could tell, he wrapped his fingers with mine and picked up my hand, kissing it lightly, "Sometimes I just get a little jealous, that's all." He repeated what he had said to me earlier. He must have had more than he usually drank, because just after that he collapsed on top of me. It was a lucky thing that even though Kerry was muscular, he didn't have an inch of fat on his bones. I suppose it came from being a newsie and sometimes not having much money for food, but I didn't fall into the East River underneath his weight, so I thanked God for his slimness.
Just then, a thin stream of light emerged from the clubhouse, as the one and only Spot Conlon stepped out himself. "Shortstack?" He said, just so that I could hear him, "What's wrong?"
"It's Kerry," I said, pushing up Kerry's body onto one of my shoulders. "He's drunk." I bit back a tear, "And he passed out, I don't know what to do."
"Here," he quickly sprang over to me and hoisted the arm on the other side of Kerry over his shoulder. "We better get him back to the lodging house, he can sleep it off there." Without another word, the two of us began to drag Kerry the two blocks back to the newsboys' lodging.
He wouldn't have been especially heavy if I'd been carrying him there myself, but I was grateful to have some help. When we finally got there, Spot let go of Kerry and went to the front door, opened it, and rejoined me with getting Kerry through the door. I turned back and closed the door, and we started up the stairs to the bunks. That was a bit more difficult, as the unconcious body of Kerry kept threatening to tip backwards and fall right back down the stairway.
As we were struggling up the stairs, Spot grunted out, "Damn it, I hate when one of me boys does this," and tried to keep his balance steady.
"This happens often?" I looked past Kerry and over at him.
He sighed, we were almost to the top of the stairs. "Yeah, I hate it."
"You said that already."
Spot stepped ahead of me to help pull him all the way up. "Well, when somebody says somethin' more den once, ya know they mean it."
"Not necessarily," as I responded, all he did was give me a strange look.
Standing at the top of the stairwell, there were two doors in front of us. Spot looked back and forth at them both, and after a moment pointed to the one on the right and said, "Pretty sure it's this one." Walking over to it, he kicked the door open and then went back to helping me with Kerry. When we were halfway through the door, he shouted out, "MacKilligan in here or next door?"
A second later a voice came from the back of the room, "Yeah, he's in here!"
With that, we pulled Kerry into the room, and I could look around a bit. The room looked almost exactly like the one Patrick and his friends slept in, only it seemed more cramped, with more bunks and less space. Then I remembered that the Brooklyn newsboys heavily outnumbered the Manhattan ones.
"Which bunk?" Spot called out again, waiting for an answer.
"Second on the left, on the bottom!" came the same voice in reply.
I was grateful that Kerry's bunk was in the second row, we didn't have much farther to drag him. Arriving at his bunk, we finally pushed him onto it. I pulled his legs up onto his bed, and he was so tall that they almost stuck out into the passageway between bunks.
Glancing around, I noticed that Kerry didn't have anything around his bunk, at least no personal things. Some of Patrick's roommates had cigarette boxes or pictures of girls laying around their bunks, but there was nothing of any individual value around the Brooklyn boys' beds. It seemed odd to me, but I didn't say anything.
Spot took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. "Well," he said flatly, "let's go."
He walked out quickly, and I tried to catch up to him as he started descending the stairs.
"Wait," he turned and looked at me. "Don't you live here, too?" Then it occured to me that maybe he intended to walk me back to the clubhouse.
"Not really, only when it's cold." He turned back around and went down the stairs, with me doing my best to keep up. I thought for a second that we'd left Kerry upstairs seemingly in a hurry, but then I decided that he probably wouldn't miss my goodbye anyway.
As we went through the front door and back onto the dark street, I asked "What do you mean? Where do you live?" He didn't slow down, and I tried to walk faster. "Would you slow down?"
"What the hell is wrong with you?" he turned at me again, and I could tell by the streetlight, as well as by his voice, that he was angry.
"Wh- what are you talkin' about?" I stopped, too. What was he mad for?
"You say you don't wanna talk to me, but the instant your 'boyfriend' ain't around, suddenly you wanna ask a buncha questions like it's nothin'!" His green eyes were blazing at me, shining brighter than the streetlights.
"I was just askin' where you live," I was stunned that he was overreacting like this. "But if you don't wanna talk, we won't," I started walking again, and then it was Spot who was trying to keep up with me.
"I never didn't wanna talk!" he jumped right in front of me, and now I was the one glaring at him through the darkness. "The point is, you need to stop jumpin' around sayin' things ya don't mean. Don't tell me that I make ya uncomfortable and then invite me upstairs to clean a floor with ya! And then you're surprised when somethin' happens, like you didn't know that it would." He paused and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "You just need to make up your mind about us, okay?"
Us? I didn't know we were more than just Spot and Anabeth, two people living two lives. When had this "us" term come into use? But he was right, I was going back and forth between decisions. I didn't want to be around with him while I was with Kerry, it was too awkward. But at the same time, I found it strangely difficult to resist wanting to be near him. Somehow, I was drawn to him, though I didn't want to admit it, not even to myself.
"I still..." I tried to explain why I kept going back and forth, but I wanted to avoid the real reason. "I... I'm WITH Kerry, Spot. That's all there is to it. Being with you is... awkward. But then sometimes," I could feel myself blushing, and was once again grateful for the darkness, "I don't wanna be anywhere else. That's why I said I can't talk to ya, but I didn't mean it. What I meant is that I... shouldn't talk to ya. I shouldn't want to be around you, Spot. But I do." Looking down, I felt my cheeks go red and wished he wasn't in my way so I could run as fast as I could away from him.
Neither of us spoke for a minute, and I didn't look up at him. Finally he said, "Let's just go back to the docks," and started walking in the direction we had come from. I glanced up and followed him, staying a couple of feet behind. As I watched the back of his head, I could feel myself still bright red. Spot basically knew how I felt, but he didn't know how strongly I felt it. The truth was that no matter how much I tried to fight it, I was attracted to him. He was the only reason that I doubted whether or not I was really in love with Kerry, he was the only thing I wasn't sure about.
We didn't say a word all the way back to the clubhouse, but when we were about a hundred yards away, Spot turned another direction and kept walking.
"Where are you going now?" I asked him, and he finally turned and looked at me.
Through the dim light, I saw his tiny half-smile and another glimmer in his eyes. "You wanted to know where I live." With that, he continued walking, and I just followed him curiously. He led me in a curved pattern through the clutter on the docks, until we'd made a semicircle around the clubhouse.
On the side, close to the back, there was a thin door that wasn't even visible by the streetlights. I guessed you wouldn't be able to find it unless you already knew that it was there. I didn't see it in the darkness, but somehow Spot found a doorknob and pushed through the doorway. All I could see on the other side was pitch blackness. He turned back to me, I was standing a few feet behind him.
"You comin' in?" I thoughtlessly nodded, and walked over to him. As he moved into the darkness, I stayed a little behind him, unsure of where he was going. Suddenly I was nearly blinded by a light, but after a few seconds my eyes adjusted. Looking to my left, I saw Spot putting out the match that he'd used to light a lantern resting on a small table next to the door. Now that I could see, I hesitatingly glanced around while Spot closed the door.
We were in one of the tiniest rooms I'd ever seen, and there was almost nothing in it. Aside from the tiny table I'd seen the lantern on, all that was in the room was a mattress, about the size of mine, on the floor with a small pillow and a thin sheet tossed on it carelessly. On the wall that helped form the very back of the clubhouse there was a small window. Examining the walls a bit, I guessed that the room was probably about three feet by six feet, barely more than a closet.
I stood in the middle of the tiny space, while Spot sat down on the mattress against the wall. He searched his pockets, I assumed for a cigarette. Much to my delight, he didn't find one. The last thing I wanted was to be trapped in this small room with him and a cloud of smoke.
"You live here?" I finally broke the silence.
He ran a hand through his hair and then rested his head on it, "Most of the time, yeah. It's pretty comfortable, 'cept on cold nights like I said. Then I go back to the lodging house. Not many people know this place's back here, so I don't get bothered or anythin'." He smiled at me again, "I was actually on my way back here when I found you tryin' to hold Kerry up after he went out."
I pulled my eyes away from his smile and pretended to be looking around his room again. "It looks... cozy." Suddenly I was aware that I was alone with Spot Conlon in his room, and became uncomfortable again. "I guess I better get back upstairs..." I looked down at my feet.
"You could always stay here tonight if ya want." My eyes darted up to him, he was sitting there smirking. As I shot him a disgusted look, he put his hands up in defeat. "Relax, Doll-Face, I was kiddin'."
"Oh..." I moved my gaze back down to my feet. "Don't say things like that, Spot." I felt my cheeks getting warm again.
"Why not?" I could feel the amusement in his voice.
"'Cause I like it..." Not able to look at him anymore, my voice was soft and barely audible, my words practically lost to the floor. He didn't say anything, so we just stayed that way for a moment. Finally I said, "G'night, Spot," and turned to open the door. I paused, hoping and wishing that he would ask me again to stay. But he didn't, so I opened the door and walked out.
Right before I shut the door behind me, I heard him say softly, "G'night Anabeth."
Walking back around the clubhouse, I could feel myself still blushing slightly, hoping to have control of myself before I got back, to avoid any suspicious looks. The last thing I needed was Fishface asking questions.
Before I reached the door, I felt a strong hand grab my shoulder. My first thought was that it might be Kerry sneaking up on me like he was still in the habit of doing, but then I remembered that he was still out cold at the lodging house. I turned around and found myself staring up into the face of that horrible Buttons, and grimaced in the darkness. Judging by his breath, he'd been drinking himself. What was it with these Brooklyn newsies with their drinking and smoking? I'd never seen the appeal of such habits, and with Buttons breathing in my face, I was even more disgusted.
"Hey girlie," I tried to back away from him, and he leaned on me drunkenly. "What was you doin' in Conlon's room?"
"Nothin," I continued to back towards the clubhouse, "and it's none of your business anyway." How did he know that I was in Spot's room anyway? I thought Spot had said only a few people knew where it was... or maybe Buttons had been watching me. That was another strange thing about the boys in Brooklyn, they were very sneaky and keen on spying on people. I, for one, was not too fond of the idea that someone might be watching me everywhere I went.
"Yeah, you're right sweetie," he backed off of me a bit. "I wouldn't want any Scotsman with their damn 'impeccable' aim after me, now would I?" His voice slurred a bit on the word "impeccable."
"You... you're not gonna tell Kerry," I gulped, "are ya?"
"Nah, Doll-Face, I ain't gonna tell your boyfriend that his girlfriend's been sleepin' with our oh-so-fearless leader behind his back. Why would I do a thing like that?"
Listening to the sarcasm in his voice, I wasn't entirely convinced that he wouldn't tell Kerry. But there wasn't anything to tell, besides the fact that I'd been coming out of Spot's room in the middle of the night. Okay, so there was something to tell.
Buttons started to speak again, but then he got a strange look on his face. Before I could blink, he had fallen forward and landed at my feet, passing out just like Kerry. But unlike Kerry, Buttons' unconcious body was just one more thing between me and the door to the clubhouse. Stepping casually over him, I walked inside and went directly upstairs.
As I opened the door, I saw Fishface sitting up on her mattress gleefully. She was rereading her letter for the billionth time, and gazing occasionally at her finger with a blissful smile on her face. Since she wasn't looking at me, I rolled my eyes and then grinned. I could only imagine how strange the world would be if everyone was as fleeting in their moods as she was.
"I heard Cowboy wrote ya," I said as cheery as I could be.
She grinned and nodded, "Yeah, says he'll have a ranch soon and I can go out there with 'im." Her eyes were positively glowing with delight, then she hushed a little bit, and with a giggle she said, "He asked me if I'd marry him. Don't tell Spot or Kerry, please, but I think I might say yes."
I smiled, Fishface was one of those people who deserved that sort of thing. Plus, she was incredibly annoying when she wasn't with Jack.
"Here, let me read some of it to you," She looked at me as if it would be the one thing in the world that would make her happy.
"Sure, go ahead," I said in a monotone. My brain was traveling back to her brother and what he'd done and said out on the docks. 'I just get jealous sometimes. that's all.'
"'Dear Fishface,'" I remembered when Spot had pointed out to her that the Cowboy didn't know her real name, I wondered if he still didn't, "'I'm sorry for not writing sooner. I've almost got a ranch and a house and everything set up for us here in Santa Fe. I can't wait until you come to join me. When you do, I wanted to ask you, and I should have asked you in person, but I just can't wait any longer, will you marry me? I await your reply. Love, Jack.' Ain't that romantic?" She fell back on her mattress by the window, pulling the letter down onto her chest and closing her eyes.
"You love 'im, don't ya?" I asked her, sitting down myself.
"Yeah, I do," She said, opening her eyes, "It's like, every breath I take is better because I know it's the same air he breathes." She gave me a half- smile, "You know what I mean. It's how Kerry feels about you."
"Does. Jack know your real name?" I asked her, not out of curiosity, but for an explanation, as to why he didn't know perhaps.
Fishface shrugged, "I don't know, he never had a reason to know it." She paused, "Until now." She gazed at that special finger, "I wonder what our wedding rings would look like." She mused with herself, but then looked back up at me, "So how have you been lately? I was a little bit. out of the loop without Jack around, didn't pay much attention to anything.Say, I'm hungry, and from the looks of it, it's around dinnertime, you wanta get somethin' to eat with me?" I noticed how she lacked the thick Scottish accent her brother had, but I assumed that if Kerry had been eight, then she would have been very young, and could have easily dropped her accent. She still favored him quite a bit though. They had the same tone of brown hair, the same bright blue eyes. They even had similar smiles. I don't know how I could have missed it before.
Fishface, unexpectedly, had a quarter in her pocket. Apparently, Jack had left her two dollars, just in case. I'm not sure what 'just in case' meant, but she didn't elaborate before she went on to tell me ALL about Jack Kelly and how great he was. In reality, I envied her, she had found her perfect love, and here I was confused as to whether or not real love actually existed. We entered the small restaurant near the bridge, she said it was her favorite place to eat when she was in Brooklyn, that Spot used to take her there all the time. The thought of this made me want to puke, but I knew that she only loved Spot as a brother. she'd said so herself. Many times. Within 30 seconds.
It was a long meal to share with someone with that much energy. Honestly, I'm not sure where she hid all that energy. She was just like everyone else, she didn't get too much to eat; she didn't sleep much at nights, yet she was as perky as a Chihuahua. It perplexed me.
The sun had set while we had eaten, and Fishface was still jabbering by the time we made it to the docks. I swear, the girl had so much to say it almost made me miss her crying. I suppose if the man I loved asked me to marry him I'd be giddy too.
Fishface had gone in ahead of me. I wanted to take a good look at the stars before I went to bed, when something---someone came stumbling onto the docks. I turned around and saw a familiar figure. Oh God no, not Kerry.
He approached me, his stride was crooked, but I could tell, he could hold his liquor better than Spot Conlon. He brushed his ink-stained hand across my face, "Heya Shortstack," his voice cracked on the last syllable of my nickname, and I flinched. I hated seeing him like this. I always knew that Kerry had been "fond of the pint". He even admitted that he loved to drink. He also admitted that it got him into quite a bit of trouble as well. The night he'd grabbed me off the streets of Brooklyn he had been drinking, and Spot Conlon's thick Brooklyn accent echoed in my mind, 'I'd give ya a good soaking if there wasn't a lady present'.
I could smell how much liquor he'd had on his breath. He was trying his best to keep his eyes in focus, I could tell, he wrapped his fingers with mine and picked up my hand, kissing it lightly, "Sometimes I just get a little jealous, that's all." He repeated what he had said to me earlier. He must have had more than he usually drank, because just after that he collapsed on top of me. It was a lucky thing that even though Kerry was muscular, he didn't have an inch of fat on his bones. I suppose it came from being a newsie and sometimes not having much money for food, but I didn't fall into the East River underneath his weight, so I thanked God for his slimness.
Just then, a thin stream of light emerged from the clubhouse, as the one and only Spot Conlon stepped out himself. "Shortstack?" He said, just so that I could hear him, "What's wrong?"
"It's Kerry," I said, pushing up Kerry's body onto one of my shoulders. "He's drunk." I bit back a tear, "And he passed out, I don't know what to do."
"Here," he quickly sprang over to me and hoisted the arm on the other side of Kerry over his shoulder. "We better get him back to the lodging house, he can sleep it off there." Without another word, the two of us began to drag Kerry the two blocks back to the newsboys' lodging.
He wouldn't have been especially heavy if I'd been carrying him there myself, but I was grateful to have some help. When we finally got there, Spot let go of Kerry and went to the front door, opened it, and rejoined me with getting Kerry through the door. I turned back and closed the door, and we started up the stairs to the bunks. That was a bit more difficult, as the unconcious body of Kerry kept threatening to tip backwards and fall right back down the stairway.
As we were struggling up the stairs, Spot grunted out, "Damn it, I hate when one of me boys does this," and tried to keep his balance steady.
"This happens often?" I looked past Kerry and over at him.
He sighed, we were almost to the top of the stairs. "Yeah, I hate it."
"You said that already."
Spot stepped ahead of me to help pull him all the way up. "Well, when somebody says somethin' more den once, ya know they mean it."
"Not necessarily," as I responded, all he did was give me a strange look.
Standing at the top of the stairwell, there were two doors in front of us. Spot looked back and forth at them both, and after a moment pointed to the one on the right and said, "Pretty sure it's this one." Walking over to it, he kicked the door open and then went back to helping me with Kerry. When we were halfway through the door, he shouted out, "MacKilligan in here or next door?"
A second later a voice came from the back of the room, "Yeah, he's in here!"
With that, we pulled Kerry into the room, and I could look around a bit. The room looked almost exactly like the one Patrick and his friends slept in, only it seemed more cramped, with more bunks and less space. Then I remembered that the Brooklyn newsboys heavily outnumbered the Manhattan ones.
"Which bunk?" Spot called out again, waiting for an answer.
"Second on the left, on the bottom!" came the same voice in reply.
I was grateful that Kerry's bunk was in the second row, we didn't have much farther to drag him. Arriving at his bunk, we finally pushed him onto it. I pulled his legs up onto his bed, and he was so tall that they almost stuck out into the passageway between bunks.
Glancing around, I noticed that Kerry didn't have anything around his bunk, at least no personal things. Some of Patrick's roommates had cigarette boxes or pictures of girls laying around their bunks, but there was nothing of any individual value around the Brooklyn boys' beds. It seemed odd to me, but I didn't say anything.
Spot took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. "Well," he said flatly, "let's go."
He walked out quickly, and I tried to catch up to him as he started descending the stairs.
"Wait," he turned and looked at me. "Don't you live here, too?" Then it occured to me that maybe he intended to walk me back to the clubhouse.
"Not really, only when it's cold." He turned back around and went down the stairs, with me doing my best to keep up. I thought for a second that we'd left Kerry upstairs seemingly in a hurry, but then I decided that he probably wouldn't miss my goodbye anyway.
As we went through the front door and back onto the dark street, I asked "What do you mean? Where do you live?" He didn't slow down, and I tried to walk faster. "Would you slow down?"
"What the hell is wrong with you?" he turned at me again, and I could tell by the streetlight, as well as by his voice, that he was angry.
"Wh- what are you talkin' about?" I stopped, too. What was he mad for?
"You say you don't wanna talk to me, but the instant your 'boyfriend' ain't around, suddenly you wanna ask a buncha questions like it's nothin'!" His green eyes were blazing at me, shining brighter than the streetlights.
"I was just askin' where you live," I was stunned that he was overreacting like this. "But if you don't wanna talk, we won't," I started walking again, and then it was Spot who was trying to keep up with me.
"I never didn't wanna talk!" he jumped right in front of me, and now I was the one glaring at him through the darkness. "The point is, you need to stop jumpin' around sayin' things ya don't mean. Don't tell me that I make ya uncomfortable and then invite me upstairs to clean a floor with ya! And then you're surprised when somethin' happens, like you didn't know that it would." He paused and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "You just need to make up your mind about us, okay?"
Us? I didn't know we were more than just Spot and Anabeth, two people living two lives. When had this "us" term come into use? But he was right, I was going back and forth between decisions. I didn't want to be around with him while I was with Kerry, it was too awkward. But at the same time, I found it strangely difficult to resist wanting to be near him. Somehow, I was drawn to him, though I didn't want to admit it, not even to myself.
"I still..." I tried to explain why I kept going back and forth, but I wanted to avoid the real reason. "I... I'm WITH Kerry, Spot. That's all there is to it. Being with you is... awkward. But then sometimes," I could feel myself blushing, and was once again grateful for the darkness, "I don't wanna be anywhere else. That's why I said I can't talk to ya, but I didn't mean it. What I meant is that I... shouldn't talk to ya. I shouldn't want to be around you, Spot. But I do." Looking down, I felt my cheeks go red and wished he wasn't in my way so I could run as fast as I could away from him.
Neither of us spoke for a minute, and I didn't look up at him. Finally he said, "Let's just go back to the docks," and started walking in the direction we had come from. I glanced up and followed him, staying a couple of feet behind. As I watched the back of his head, I could feel myself still bright red. Spot basically knew how I felt, but he didn't know how strongly I felt it. The truth was that no matter how much I tried to fight it, I was attracted to him. He was the only reason that I doubted whether or not I was really in love with Kerry, he was the only thing I wasn't sure about.
We didn't say a word all the way back to the clubhouse, but when we were about a hundred yards away, Spot turned another direction and kept walking.
"Where are you going now?" I asked him, and he finally turned and looked at me.
Through the dim light, I saw his tiny half-smile and another glimmer in his eyes. "You wanted to know where I live." With that, he continued walking, and I just followed him curiously. He led me in a curved pattern through the clutter on the docks, until we'd made a semicircle around the clubhouse.
On the side, close to the back, there was a thin door that wasn't even visible by the streetlights. I guessed you wouldn't be able to find it unless you already knew that it was there. I didn't see it in the darkness, but somehow Spot found a doorknob and pushed through the doorway. All I could see on the other side was pitch blackness. He turned back to me, I was standing a few feet behind him.
"You comin' in?" I thoughtlessly nodded, and walked over to him. As he moved into the darkness, I stayed a little behind him, unsure of where he was going. Suddenly I was nearly blinded by a light, but after a few seconds my eyes adjusted. Looking to my left, I saw Spot putting out the match that he'd used to light a lantern resting on a small table next to the door. Now that I could see, I hesitatingly glanced around while Spot closed the door.
We were in one of the tiniest rooms I'd ever seen, and there was almost nothing in it. Aside from the tiny table I'd seen the lantern on, all that was in the room was a mattress, about the size of mine, on the floor with a small pillow and a thin sheet tossed on it carelessly. On the wall that helped form the very back of the clubhouse there was a small window. Examining the walls a bit, I guessed that the room was probably about three feet by six feet, barely more than a closet.
I stood in the middle of the tiny space, while Spot sat down on the mattress against the wall. He searched his pockets, I assumed for a cigarette. Much to my delight, he didn't find one. The last thing I wanted was to be trapped in this small room with him and a cloud of smoke.
"You live here?" I finally broke the silence.
He ran a hand through his hair and then rested his head on it, "Most of the time, yeah. It's pretty comfortable, 'cept on cold nights like I said. Then I go back to the lodging house. Not many people know this place's back here, so I don't get bothered or anythin'." He smiled at me again, "I was actually on my way back here when I found you tryin' to hold Kerry up after he went out."
I pulled my eyes away from his smile and pretended to be looking around his room again. "It looks... cozy." Suddenly I was aware that I was alone with Spot Conlon in his room, and became uncomfortable again. "I guess I better get back upstairs..." I looked down at my feet.
"You could always stay here tonight if ya want." My eyes darted up to him, he was sitting there smirking. As I shot him a disgusted look, he put his hands up in defeat. "Relax, Doll-Face, I was kiddin'."
"Oh..." I moved my gaze back down to my feet. "Don't say things like that, Spot." I felt my cheeks getting warm again.
"Why not?" I could feel the amusement in his voice.
"'Cause I like it..." Not able to look at him anymore, my voice was soft and barely audible, my words practically lost to the floor. He didn't say anything, so we just stayed that way for a moment. Finally I said, "G'night, Spot," and turned to open the door. I paused, hoping and wishing that he would ask me again to stay. But he didn't, so I opened the door and walked out.
Right before I shut the door behind me, I heard him say softly, "G'night Anabeth."
Walking back around the clubhouse, I could feel myself still blushing slightly, hoping to have control of myself before I got back, to avoid any suspicious looks. The last thing I needed was Fishface asking questions.
Before I reached the door, I felt a strong hand grab my shoulder. My first thought was that it might be Kerry sneaking up on me like he was still in the habit of doing, but then I remembered that he was still out cold at the lodging house. I turned around and found myself staring up into the face of that horrible Buttons, and grimaced in the darkness. Judging by his breath, he'd been drinking himself. What was it with these Brooklyn newsies with their drinking and smoking? I'd never seen the appeal of such habits, and with Buttons breathing in my face, I was even more disgusted.
"Hey girlie," I tried to back away from him, and he leaned on me drunkenly. "What was you doin' in Conlon's room?"
"Nothin," I continued to back towards the clubhouse, "and it's none of your business anyway." How did he know that I was in Spot's room anyway? I thought Spot had said only a few people knew where it was... or maybe Buttons had been watching me. That was another strange thing about the boys in Brooklyn, they were very sneaky and keen on spying on people. I, for one, was not too fond of the idea that someone might be watching me everywhere I went.
"Yeah, you're right sweetie," he backed off of me a bit. "I wouldn't want any Scotsman with their damn 'impeccable' aim after me, now would I?" His voice slurred a bit on the word "impeccable."
"You... you're not gonna tell Kerry," I gulped, "are ya?"
"Nah, Doll-Face, I ain't gonna tell your boyfriend that his girlfriend's been sleepin' with our oh-so-fearless leader behind his back. Why would I do a thing like that?"
Listening to the sarcasm in his voice, I wasn't entirely convinced that he wouldn't tell Kerry. But there wasn't anything to tell, besides the fact that I'd been coming out of Spot's room in the middle of the night. Okay, so there was something to tell.
Buttons started to speak again, but then he got a strange look on his face. Before I could blink, he had fallen forward and landed at my feet, passing out just like Kerry. But unlike Kerry, Buttons' unconcious body was just one more thing between me and the door to the clubhouse. Stepping casually over him, I walked inside and went directly upstairs.
As I opened the door, I saw Fishface sitting up on her mattress gleefully. She was rereading her letter for the billionth time, and gazing occasionally at her finger with a blissful smile on her face. Since she wasn't looking at me, I rolled my eyes and then grinned. I could only imagine how strange the world would be if everyone was as fleeting in their moods as she was.