I couldn't help but smile as I crossed the Brooklyn Bridge. I was so
excited to see Spot and all the other Brooklyn newsies again. I had missed
them so much. When I arrived at the lodging house I was met with a young
newsy I had never met before. He looked like he had been soaked real bad,
and probably lucky to be alive.
"Who'se ya?" the kid said, he tried to act tough but it was obvious he was in a lot a pain.
"Relax kid, I'se Chrys. Where's everybody at?"
"Dey's at Medda's. Spot says I'se not well enough ta go." I nodded and without another word headed out the door.
I was really nervous about going to Irving Hall. I had almost turned back and waited for Spot and the others back at the lodging house, but somehow I convinced myself that seeing everyone at once would be best. Hell, now I would be so preoccupied with everyone else I wouldn't even have to think about Race. I could probably ignore him all night. Thinking confident thoughts, I took a deep breath and opened the door to the dimly lit theatre. I walked in and was overwhelmed with a sea of unfamiliar faces. After quite a bit of intense searching I found Spot at the bar. I walked up behind him and nonchalantly said hi. I was so nervous my voice came out at a higher pitch than usual, sounding nothing at all like my normal voice.
"Can I help ya?" he asked, not recognizing my voice. He turned around, wearing his most flirtatious smile. When his eyes laid on me, his jaw dropped and Spot just gaped at me, eyes wide and all. After the shock wore off, he smirked at me, "I'se told ya, you'se be back."
I couldn't help but laugh. How I had missed that egotistical little jerk. "That mean my bunk is still open?"
Spots smile faded and he suddenly seemed extremely interested in his shoes. "Funny you should mention dat. See, we... uhh... got a new goil and, well, there were no odder bunks left, so... yea."
I was furious. Plain and simple. I had told myself that Spot wouldn't deceive me like Race had, but here he was, telling me he had broken his promise. I was about to storm out when I sat down next to Spot and counted from ten to one. I wasn't going to let some stupid bitch get between my family and me. I left them once, and I wasn't going to do it again. "Dat's fine. I'll stay in Manhattan till anudder bunk opens up."
Spot raised an eyebrow, "I dunno Chrys. I don wanna wake up and find Race dead and you'se running from da bulls foah murder."
Shit, I had totally forgotten about Race. I had no where else ta go, so I figured I could tough it out. "Da bulls won't be aftah me. Dey don't care 'bout no street rats. Much like me, dey could care less if Race was dead or alive." Spot laughed.
"Dat was kinda harsh," said a voice behind me. I glared at Spot for not telling me he was behind me.
"It's da truth." I said, turning to give him my best glare.
He glared back. Spot was severely amused by our little staring contest and almost fell out of his chair he was laughing so hard. He looked at Spot, laughed, and then turned back to me, "How's it rollin' Chrys?"
"Good ta be home, Jacky-boy. Good ta be home." He smiled.
"Well it's not really home, since you ain't in Brooklyn, but you're welcome heah till a bunk opens up. As long as you promise not to kill Race."
I shot him an innocent look, "Me? Kill Race?" Spot really did fall that time. Too much whiskey I suppose, or maybe everyone really did think I wanted to kill Race. Well they were right.
Spot got up, "I'se okay." Jack and I stifled our laughter.
"I ain't gonna kill Race. I promise." Jack nodded and then left to talk to his new goil.
Spot, holding on to his former stool for support, decided we should move to a table. Somewhere with a back support and far away from anymore alcohol. I reluctantly agreed. After finding a sturdier place to sit, Spot and I began talking about what had been going on after I left. I had completely forgotten about Race again until he decided to grace us with his unwanted presence. "Dis you'se new goil, Spot?" Race asked, standing behind me."
I don't think Spot wanted to Race and I to ruin everyone's night like we had, the last time we were at Irving Hall together. Apparently, despite the vicious hangovers, the majority of Manhattan and Brooklyn had spent two straight days looking for me. Then deciding if I didn't want to be found, I probably couldn't be. "No Race, go away, we'se talkin'."
"It's okay Spot. I'm used ta being in da gutters wid rats. Dey don't bother me much no more."
"Chrys?" I turned to Race smiling.
"Hiya Race." I said, hatred dripping off my evident fake enthusiasm.
"Chrys, You gotta let me explain." But I wouldn't let him.
"I don wanna hear you lame excuse. I don't care anymore. Where is Tramp... I mean Truth anyway?" Spot stifled a laugh and Race looked down sorrowfully.
"It don mattah, you'se wont be seeing her 'round heah no more," Race answered quietly.
"Ohh, did she move up in da woild. Now she hook up wid dogs?" Spot could no longer hold his laughter and received a glare from Race and I, "Heya Spot, now you'se got a chance!"
Spot immediately stopped and gave me the death glare., "You'se pushin' it, Chrys." I smiled sweetly to Spot, he wasn't very intimidating when he was so drunk he could barely walk. I turned back to Race, but he had stalked off, clearly being made fun of wasn't his favorite pastime. I smiled victoriously, that felt just as good, if not better, than soaking the bum.
"Maybe you should stay in Brooklyn. Two of da boys can share a bunk or... I'se gotta big bed, you'se could share my bed wid me." I looked at him skeptically. Sure he said I was like his sister, but this was the Spot Conlon, womanizer of New York. The fact that he was drunk off his ass wasn't comforting either. Spot seemed to grasp what I was thinking. "Chrys! You'se like me sistah!" he said disgusted.
I laughed, glad he was still somewhat there. "Shoa Spot. I'll stay wid you instead. I nevah cared for Manhattan anyway."
"Let's get outta heah. Dis party blows anyways." Spot and I made our way back to Brooklyn. When we arrived I was exhausted, so I changed and went to bed. I was almost asleep when I heard Spot come in. I pretended to be sleeping. He quietly got into bed and laid down. He sat up for a moment and looked at me. He opened his mouth for a moment, like he was going to say something, but I guess he decided against it, because he just shook his head and laid back down. Back to back, I listened to his breathing and drifted into sleep.
-----------------------------
A/N: Sorry it took so long. Went on vacation for a week! It was great! Except the airport lost my bag... full of expensive scuba gear. ::cries over beloved gear:: Anyways, this chapter is dedicated to a super special guy! I don't know his name, so I'll just call him Joe! But I sat next to Joe on the plane and he let me borrow his pen so I could write this! So lets all thank Joe for his generosity. ::gives Joe a BIG hug::
K kids, this is the fun part. You humor me and push that little button down there that says review, and well you know the drill. If you don't, Joe will be deeply saddened! Please don't make Joe sad, he's a super cool dude.
"Who'se ya?" the kid said, he tried to act tough but it was obvious he was in a lot a pain.
"Relax kid, I'se Chrys. Where's everybody at?"
"Dey's at Medda's. Spot says I'se not well enough ta go." I nodded and without another word headed out the door.
I was really nervous about going to Irving Hall. I had almost turned back and waited for Spot and the others back at the lodging house, but somehow I convinced myself that seeing everyone at once would be best. Hell, now I would be so preoccupied with everyone else I wouldn't even have to think about Race. I could probably ignore him all night. Thinking confident thoughts, I took a deep breath and opened the door to the dimly lit theatre. I walked in and was overwhelmed with a sea of unfamiliar faces. After quite a bit of intense searching I found Spot at the bar. I walked up behind him and nonchalantly said hi. I was so nervous my voice came out at a higher pitch than usual, sounding nothing at all like my normal voice.
"Can I help ya?" he asked, not recognizing my voice. He turned around, wearing his most flirtatious smile. When his eyes laid on me, his jaw dropped and Spot just gaped at me, eyes wide and all. After the shock wore off, he smirked at me, "I'se told ya, you'se be back."
I couldn't help but laugh. How I had missed that egotistical little jerk. "That mean my bunk is still open?"
Spots smile faded and he suddenly seemed extremely interested in his shoes. "Funny you should mention dat. See, we... uhh... got a new goil and, well, there were no odder bunks left, so... yea."
I was furious. Plain and simple. I had told myself that Spot wouldn't deceive me like Race had, but here he was, telling me he had broken his promise. I was about to storm out when I sat down next to Spot and counted from ten to one. I wasn't going to let some stupid bitch get between my family and me. I left them once, and I wasn't going to do it again. "Dat's fine. I'll stay in Manhattan till anudder bunk opens up."
Spot raised an eyebrow, "I dunno Chrys. I don wanna wake up and find Race dead and you'se running from da bulls foah murder."
Shit, I had totally forgotten about Race. I had no where else ta go, so I figured I could tough it out. "Da bulls won't be aftah me. Dey don't care 'bout no street rats. Much like me, dey could care less if Race was dead or alive." Spot laughed.
"Dat was kinda harsh," said a voice behind me. I glared at Spot for not telling me he was behind me.
"It's da truth." I said, turning to give him my best glare.
He glared back. Spot was severely amused by our little staring contest and almost fell out of his chair he was laughing so hard. He looked at Spot, laughed, and then turned back to me, "How's it rollin' Chrys?"
"Good ta be home, Jacky-boy. Good ta be home." He smiled.
"Well it's not really home, since you ain't in Brooklyn, but you're welcome heah till a bunk opens up. As long as you promise not to kill Race."
I shot him an innocent look, "Me? Kill Race?" Spot really did fall that time. Too much whiskey I suppose, or maybe everyone really did think I wanted to kill Race. Well they were right.
Spot got up, "I'se okay." Jack and I stifled our laughter.
"I ain't gonna kill Race. I promise." Jack nodded and then left to talk to his new goil.
Spot, holding on to his former stool for support, decided we should move to a table. Somewhere with a back support and far away from anymore alcohol. I reluctantly agreed. After finding a sturdier place to sit, Spot and I began talking about what had been going on after I left. I had completely forgotten about Race again until he decided to grace us with his unwanted presence. "Dis you'se new goil, Spot?" Race asked, standing behind me."
I don't think Spot wanted to Race and I to ruin everyone's night like we had, the last time we were at Irving Hall together. Apparently, despite the vicious hangovers, the majority of Manhattan and Brooklyn had spent two straight days looking for me. Then deciding if I didn't want to be found, I probably couldn't be. "No Race, go away, we'se talkin'."
"It's okay Spot. I'm used ta being in da gutters wid rats. Dey don't bother me much no more."
"Chrys?" I turned to Race smiling.
"Hiya Race." I said, hatred dripping off my evident fake enthusiasm.
"Chrys, You gotta let me explain." But I wouldn't let him.
"I don wanna hear you lame excuse. I don't care anymore. Where is Tramp... I mean Truth anyway?" Spot stifled a laugh and Race looked down sorrowfully.
"It don mattah, you'se wont be seeing her 'round heah no more," Race answered quietly.
"Ohh, did she move up in da woild. Now she hook up wid dogs?" Spot could no longer hold his laughter and received a glare from Race and I, "Heya Spot, now you'se got a chance!"
Spot immediately stopped and gave me the death glare., "You'se pushin' it, Chrys." I smiled sweetly to Spot, he wasn't very intimidating when he was so drunk he could barely walk. I turned back to Race, but he had stalked off, clearly being made fun of wasn't his favorite pastime. I smiled victoriously, that felt just as good, if not better, than soaking the bum.
"Maybe you should stay in Brooklyn. Two of da boys can share a bunk or... I'se gotta big bed, you'se could share my bed wid me." I looked at him skeptically. Sure he said I was like his sister, but this was the Spot Conlon, womanizer of New York. The fact that he was drunk off his ass wasn't comforting either. Spot seemed to grasp what I was thinking. "Chrys! You'se like me sistah!" he said disgusted.
I laughed, glad he was still somewhat there. "Shoa Spot. I'll stay wid you instead. I nevah cared for Manhattan anyway."
"Let's get outta heah. Dis party blows anyways." Spot and I made our way back to Brooklyn. When we arrived I was exhausted, so I changed and went to bed. I was almost asleep when I heard Spot come in. I pretended to be sleeping. He quietly got into bed and laid down. He sat up for a moment and looked at me. He opened his mouth for a moment, like he was going to say something, but I guess he decided against it, because he just shook his head and laid back down. Back to back, I listened to his breathing and drifted into sleep.
-----------------------------
A/N: Sorry it took so long. Went on vacation for a week! It was great! Except the airport lost my bag... full of expensive scuba gear. ::cries over beloved gear:: Anyways, this chapter is dedicated to a super special guy! I don't know his name, so I'll just call him Joe! But I sat next to Joe on the plane and he let me borrow his pen so I could write this! So lets all thank Joe for his generosity. ::gives Joe a BIG hug::
K kids, this is the fun part. You humor me and push that little button down there that says review, and well you know the drill. If you don't, Joe will be deeply saddened! Please don't make Joe sad, he's a super cool dude.