Cobblestone.
Cobblestone, not gold, Katie thought, looking at her feet, the street beneath them.
Once the pair had reached the outskirts of the city, a farmhouse much like their own had stood off the the left. Cole had sold the horse, a fine, purebread stallion, to the farmer for a price only a naive kid would take. Pocketing his five dollars, Cole walked back to the road where Katie stood.
"Food from the farmer's wife," he said, handing her a hunk of bread and a large wedge of cheese. The two ate in silence, savoring their simple meal. It was the only food they'd had in the two days since they had left.
They then began the short walk to the city.
Now, standing there, her dirty brown skirt swaying in the breeze, Katie realized that the simple farmers had it all wrong. From what she could see, here on the street, New York City was no city of dreams, it was only a rat infested place crawling with small children with no parents and no homes.
Much like themselves.
But Cole stood as well, gazing about himself. His chest puffed with the same pride he'd had even at age three, proclaiming his name for all the world to hear. From what he saw, New York was a place of potential, of intrigue, of power.
And he planned to get his hands on some of that power as soon as oppertunity knocked.
But first there was the small matter of lodging. Here in Manhattan there didn't seem to be much space for kids, except for the alleys. Cole shuddered involuntarily at the thought of sleeping there when the weather turned cold, as it would soon.
"Okay Katherine, it's time ta find a place ta sleep," he said softly, turning to Katie, who stood staring at her surroundings.
"Mmm, okay Mr. Smarty-Pants. Now that we're here you're going to be the ringleader? Since when are you so happy about being here?" Cole's sudden change of heart had her wondering.
"I'm not," he said defensively. Katie cast him a Look. "Alright Katie, alright. I feel power on these streets Katherine." He took her chilled hand in his. "I want some."
Katie felt a small smile creep upon her lips. She squashed it down, keeping her expression placid. "Well, let's go get you some then, Mr. Conlon."
Three months later, Katie's mind was still reeling from all that had happened. She'd say one thing for New York City, nothing ever stayed the same.
As she began to reminisce on the things that had went on, she felt a pang for Cole. She missed him. Her Cole was gone, replaced by a hard, unnerving young man who had no time for his small, weak, unattractive Katherine.
Cole had first seen a newsboy, or a newsie, as the up-towners called them, and as they called themselves, he had learned; on that first day. The boy, wearing a red bandana and a cowboy hat around his neck, had tried to sell them a paper for a penny.
"We don't got any money Kid," Cole had said, conveniently forgetting the five dollars he had tucked in his back pocket.
"I ain't Kid, he is," The boy said, grinning jokingly, as he pointed to a boy of about fourteen with bright blue eyes and shaggy blonde hair. "Kid da newsie, 'dat is."
Cole stared him down. The newsie felt a surge of intimidation as the boy smaller than he and around two years younger glared at him with eyes that glittered and flashed darkly.
"What are you, some kinda walkin' mouth?" Cole asked, smirking.
"Naah...Name's Kelly. Jack Kelly. Dey call me Cowboy 'round heah."
"Well then. I'm Cole. Cole Conlon," Cole had said, looking the boy up and down as if measuring his size.
Katie, who had been silent during this whole exchange, gazed at the boy. He must have felt her eyes on him, for he turned to her.
"An' whass dis? Some li'l church mouse?" The boy asked, waving a hand at Katie's pink nose, and referring to her silence.
"Katherine Redding. Nice to meet you...Cowboy." Katie said stiffly, her lips in a firm, thin line.
"Cawl me Jack Miss," He said, grinning. Katie licked her lips in annoyance.
Cole had broken the silence with an inquiry.
"So what's this that ya do Jack? Sell papers for a livin'?"
Jack nodded. "Papes. I'se a newsie. One day, I'll be da leadah."
Katie could almost feel Cole's blood pump faster, and hear his heart beat louder at the word 'leader.'
"Leader of what?" Katie had asked, wondering exactly what there could be to lead in selling 'papes'.
"The newsies," Jack said, looking at her as if she were stupid. "Boys need a leadah." He turned back to Cole. "We all stay at the lodgin' house, if you don't got nothin' to do ta make money or anywheah ta stay." He paused, and glanced at Katie. "We don't got no house fer goils though. She couldn't stay."
Katie could feel Cole tense, as he glanced at her as well. "Well, we gotta stay together. Me and her."
"Well Brooklyn has a goils' lodgin' house, fer newsgoils. Deah's not many, mind ya, but they'se got a place ta stay. Smallah den da Newsboys' House, but it's theah." Jack stared at Cole. "You'll fit in bettah theah anyway. Ya look like a kid who wants powah. Brooklyn'll give ya some."
It all went downhill when Cole had decided to go to Brooklyn. Jack Kelly had told of the reputations the Brooklynites had, and he wanted a reputation theat made girls weak in the knees and little boys run.
So he dragged Katie over the bridge on the spot. As Jack watched them go, he knew he himself would be leader of the Manhattan newsies one day soon, but possibly sooner, Cole Conlon would become a great, and feared leader. Famous too, he could tell.
Conlon would be a name guaranteed to make anyone nervous.
And in the past three months, Katie had been tossed into a house not-exactly-filled with girls. Three others, besides herself, to be exact.
Amelia Parker, known in the newsies' world as Mugger, was a tough one. You wouldn't expect it from her appearance, as she was a short little thing. Around thirteen or fourteen, she had short, frizzy, curly brown hair, nearly black, and eyes just as dark. Her skin was a tan olive, and her muddy complexion and slightly chubby body didn't make her THE most attractive person in the world, but under her tough exterior, she really was a sweet girl.
Amy O'Grady, a young girl of ten, was as Irish as they come, and her age and country of birth had prevented her from a factory job, not to mention that both of her parents and her brother had died of Scarlet Fever on the way to America three years before. No one wanted Irish girls. But she was a cute little girl. Her red hair was usually mussed and tangled, and her bright green eyes usually twinged with laughter. Her flaming red hair earned her the name Carrot.
And the last, Lisa Macaulay, had paper straight brown hair, with highlights from the sun similar to Katie's. It's length and quality matched Katherine's as well, but Katie had to admit, in the looks department, Lisa came out on the higher end. Her honey brown eyes and her equally honey-colored skin matched perfectly, and her high cheekbones, perfectly triangle nose, and full, tan-pink lips sold her plenty of papes.
And she was formed; what Katie wanted to be. She had a chest, thighs, a seat, and curves everywhere else; enough to drive a man wild. And she was only a year Katie's senior. They called her Scots, for lack of creativity on her day of names.
Lisa was Scottish, and Katie's guess was that the person who gave her her name had searched for one out of the gutter, and coming up lacking, had resorted to Scots.
Katherine wasn't too thrilled about her own name either. Jack Kelly, curse him, had given her a name the first day they had met. Church Mouse. As they were crossing the Brooklyn Bridge, Cole had begun to call her that, apparently finding it very humorous.
Katie was not amused.
"Come on Katie, all the newsies have nicknames, and that's what you'll be from now on."
Katie had wanted to ask him exactly when he had become in charge of what she would do, but she realized, quite wisely, that she had nothing better to do. And she wouldn't let herself be more seperated from Cole than was absolutely necessary.
"So what's YOUR name gonna be Conlon?" She asked, feeling quite sinppety now that they were alone, without that annoying, if not handsome, newsie around.
"Don't have one yet Redding," He said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he uttered her last name.
She stuck her tongue out at him before turning away. They got lost about three times on their way to Brooklyn, for Cole, full of pride, never asked for directions, a fact that made Katie want to reach out and throttle him.
Now, looking back on that oh-so-fateful day, Katherine felt a pang. That day was her last one joking with Cole, smiling at him, watching the way his jaw moved when he spoke, stealing glances at him out of the corner of her eye.
As soon as they had gotten to Brooklyn, Cole had spotted a lone newsboy. It was nearing sunset, and finally, at the thought of possibly sleeping outside in an alley, Cole strutted up to the boy who seemed about eleven, and asked him where the Lodging House was.
"Hold on. I'se almos' done sellin'. I'll wawk back witcha." And as they watched, he quickly sold the last of his papes, all the while yelling in that same odd accent.
As soon as they had arrived, Cole had been swooped down upon by an attracitve, muscular boy of about sixteen. The young man's eyes were as dark as his black shirt, and his black curls cascaded onto his forehead. He introduced himself, his accent the same as the newsboy they now knew as Volume.
The boys called him Top; and he explained it briefly, saying that the leader before him told him that one day, he would be Top Dog. The name stuck, but dropped the second word. Top. It seemed to fit the handsome boy quite well.
Always on the watch, Top saw Cole's backward glance, and felt his hesitation as Top led him into the House.
Turning, Top saw Katie for the first time. He was taken aback at her hair, as everyone was. It shone even in the setting sun, the shadows seeming to go around it. At a closer insepction, he was surprised to find that she wasn't a knock-out. Eyebrows raised, he scanned the docks.
"Scots!" He yelled, looking in the direction of a boy and a girl who were conversing on the end of the dock.
To Katie's astonishment, it was not the boy who turned, but the girl.
"Yeah?" she called back, turning her gaze to Top. She shielded her eyes from the glare of the sun at the horizon.
"Come 'ere! I got a new goil foah ya!"
At that, Scots jogged over to the small group, her skirts swaying. As she came closer, Katie saw how very pretty she was, despite her dirty face and hands, and how grubby her clothes were. Katherine cringed inwardly at what she knew to be true--she'd be that unclean in a a few days' time.
"Really? Where is she?" Scots asked, looking at Top, her voice light and airy and carriyng the traces of a lovely Scottish accent that seemed to have faded ever-so-slightly.
Top nodded in Katie's direction, and as Scots looked at her, Katie felt her eyes stop on the blonde locks, then travel down her face and body, as if she were sizing her up. Which she was.
"Hey. I'm Lisa. They call me Scots. You will too, eh?" Katie found herself smiling at the way the girl pronounced her words, in spite of her inhibitions at being there.
"Yes..." Katie began, trailing off, "I'm Katie. nice to meet you."
The two girls shook hands, and when a few boys lolly-gagging on the steps snickered, Scots rolled her eyes as Katie looked in their direction, confused.
"Women." Top said. "Shake hand's wi' me boy," He said to Cole. Cole stuck out his hand, and Top promptly spit into his own before holding it out to Cole.
After a slight hesitation, Cole shrugged, spit in his hand, and shook with Top.
Katie wrinkled her nose as Scots voiced her opinion. "Disgusting. Which is why we girls don't do it."
Top laughed, and Scots made a face at him, triyng not to smile.
"Well Katie, come on. We better get inside. Mrs. Pan cooks us girls dinner on Saturdays."
And so the girls had gone one way, into another, smaller building across the street from the boys, and the boys had gone the other.
Thus beginning the seperation of Cole Conlon and Katherine Redding.
Thus beginning the transformation of Cole Conlon to the hard, unfeeling Spot Conlon.
Katie didn't know how Cole had gotten his name, Spot, and frankly, she didn't really care.
"Mouse!" Katie heard a call from down the stairs, and she shook herself out of her memories.
"These weeks are gone and done Katherine. Cole is gone. He's...Spot now. Get used to it..." Katherine spoke to herself quietly before calling back, "I'm coming!"
Selling was getting easier as well. The first day of selling, Katie had bought thirty, and sold exactly fourteen. Now, today, buying thirty, she sold every single paper, but highly doubted she would get much better than that for a long time.
At Greeley's that afternoon, Scots plopped herself down next to Top, who smiled, making his handsome face even more attractive.
Katie sat down tentatively next to Mugger, who smirked at her. Smirking was as close as Mugger got to smiling, at least in public. In the privacy of their room, she was all smiles and laughs.
Katie watched Spot. Cole. No Spot; for Cole was gone. Buried somewhere underneath that exterior that had rapidly taken him over.
He sat at the right hand of Top, who had adopted him as his sidekick. Katie knew however, that as soon as Top left, Spot would become leader. She felt it in her heart of hearts, as Beth would say.
The door opened, and out of habit, nearly every head turned toward the sound of the bell's jangling.
A young man of about seventeen strolled in, a younger boy at his heels. Katie didn't recognize the older boy, but the younger one gave her a start.
It was Jack Kelly, his hair falling over his eyes as he adjusted the bandana around his neck.
"Top. We'se got business ta handle," the older one said, his cat green eyes glittering dangerously.
"What kin'a business Quail?" Top asked, not missing a beat.
"Harlem." Quail said pointedly, shaking his blonde hair out of his eyes. Katie couldn't decide if he was handsome or not. "Top. Can we'se tawk about dis outside?" He added, motioning to the door.
"Me boys'll find out whethah you tell 'em now or I tell 'em latah." Top shot back, licking his lips, Spot smirking at his side.
Katie had noticed that in the time they had been there, that smirk had intensified from the inncoent, humorous expression she had known back in the country; to what it was now: a hardened, smoking hot smirk that made her heart pound with emotions she did not understand.
Quail sighed, comtemplating. Katie decided that he had a cuteness that grew on her. Finally, after a long silence, where Top and Quail stared at one another as Jack and Spot did likewise, Carrot broke the tension with a sneeze, her red hair flying as she rocked forward.
"Awright Top. Harlem's been causin' some trouble in 'Hattan. Some a me boys been comin' home with nice shinahs and some bloody noses. Now dat ain't too unusual, but it's moah den dere usually is. From what they tellin' me, it's da same group a five guys e'ery time. I had some a me boys go out and track 'em. They followed 'em ta Harlem."
Here he paused, and glanced at Jack.
"We followed 'em ta Harlem," Jack began, and evidently he had been a spy, "They'se newsies. It's five of 'em, all 'em about sixteen oah seventeen. Last 'Hattan newsie they soaked was nine."
Katie uttered an audible gasp. A scuffle between teenage boys was normal, but for a strong, tough young man to go after a little boy who couldn't fend for himself as a result of brawn alone, or lack thereof; that was unacceptable.
Quail and Jack glanced at her for a brief second before turning back to Top.
"So far it's juss been shinahs and bruises. But i'm tellin' ya Top, if it gets any woise; if one a me boys comes back with some serious injury, oah doesn' came back at awl; den we'se goin' out ta get 'em." Quail finished, his outh set in a firm, stubborn line.
Spot spoke up for the first time, when Top didn't reply.
"And ya need Brooklyn's help huh?" Katie was mesmerized at how quickly he had picked up the ruggedly harsh Brooklyn accent.
Quail stared at Spot for a moment. He seemed to be debating whether or not he should soak the kid for talking back at him, or should just answer.
Something in the boy's eyes made him stop the retort he felt coming. There was an intensity in them, an intensity that burned with the fire of determination. An intensity that demanded respect.
"Yeah. We need Brooklyn." Quail's mouth was set in a thin line as he replied, his arms crossed.
Top stood, walked over to Quail, and spit in his hand, holding it out to his fellow leader.
"If ya need help, I'd be happy ta give ya some," he said, simpering.
Quail nodded, a slight, relieved smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He supressed it quickly, and returned the spit-shake.
And with that, the Manhattan leader and Jack turned and sauntered out of Greeley's.
A few days later, Brooklyn would join forces with Manhattan. For the newsie called Kid had been soaked. And the expression, "You're gonna poke somebody's eye out!" became an all too harsh reality.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Skittles: Thanks so much! The best Prologue? Jeeeeez it was not...LOL I jsut though one was needed...Hee hee...Here's stuff you haven't read--and the next chappie os more than halfway done, so I'm right on schedule!!! yeah baby! *does the cabbage patch*
Sparkles and Chronicles Bailey--Here ya go goilees...more!
Lucky--I know, kinda sad...But here's what happens when they get to NYC! I hope ya enjoyed it!
Come now, click the button and give me the coolest, most innovative review ever! *laughs*
New reviewers will get a very nice reviewer dance, consisting of the Hustle, the Cabbage Patch, and very possibly some moves from my personal rain/snow dance, which kicks i must say.
And of course, if Rhys is reading...i'll take a page from...Omni? I think it was, correct me if im dead wrong, which i prolly am...But either way, I'll take a page from ehr book and bestow upon you OJ and animal crackers...or graham crackers or whatever the hell crackers it was.....But i need some kickin reviews from my MST goilees!!
Chelci
Glimmer Conlon O'Leary
Cobblestone, not gold, Katie thought, looking at her feet, the street beneath them.
Once the pair had reached the outskirts of the city, a farmhouse much like their own had stood off the the left. Cole had sold the horse, a fine, purebread stallion, to the farmer for a price only a naive kid would take. Pocketing his five dollars, Cole walked back to the road where Katie stood.
"Food from the farmer's wife," he said, handing her a hunk of bread and a large wedge of cheese. The two ate in silence, savoring their simple meal. It was the only food they'd had in the two days since they had left.
They then began the short walk to the city.
Now, standing there, her dirty brown skirt swaying in the breeze, Katie realized that the simple farmers had it all wrong. From what she could see, here on the street, New York City was no city of dreams, it was only a rat infested place crawling with small children with no parents and no homes.
Much like themselves.
But Cole stood as well, gazing about himself. His chest puffed with the same pride he'd had even at age three, proclaiming his name for all the world to hear. From what he saw, New York was a place of potential, of intrigue, of power.
And he planned to get his hands on some of that power as soon as oppertunity knocked.
But first there was the small matter of lodging. Here in Manhattan there didn't seem to be much space for kids, except for the alleys. Cole shuddered involuntarily at the thought of sleeping there when the weather turned cold, as it would soon.
"Okay Katherine, it's time ta find a place ta sleep," he said softly, turning to Katie, who stood staring at her surroundings.
"Mmm, okay Mr. Smarty-Pants. Now that we're here you're going to be the ringleader? Since when are you so happy about being here?" Cole's sudden change of heart had her wondering.
"I'm not," he said defensively. Katie cast him a Look. "Alright Katie, alright. I feel power on these streets Katherine." He took her chilled hand in his. "I want some."
Katie felt a small smile creep upon her lips. She squashed it down, keeping her expression placid. "Well, let's go get you some then, Mr. Conlon."
Three months later, Katie's mind was still reeling from all that had happened. She'd say one thing for New York City, nothing ever stayed the same.
As she began to reminisce on the things that had went on, she felt a pang for Cole. She missed him. Her Cole was gone, replaced by a hard, unnerving young man who had no time for his small, weak, unattractive Katherine.
Cole had first seen a newsboy, or a newsie, as the up-towners called them, and as they called themselves, he had learned; on that first day. The boy, wearing a red bandana and a cowboy hat around his neck, had tried to sell them a paper for a penny.
"We don't got any money Kid," Cole had said, conveniently forgetting the five dollars he had tucked in his back pocket.
"I ain't Kid, he is," The boy said, grinning jokingly, as he pointed to a boy of about fourteen with bright blue eyes and shaggy blonde hair. "Kid da newsie, 'dat is."
Cole stared him down. The newsie felt a surge of intimidation as the boy smaller than he and around two years younger glared at him with eyes that glittered and flashed darkly.
"What are you, some kinda walkin' mouth?" Cole asked, smirking.
"Naah...Name's Kelly. Jack Kelly. Dey call me Cowboy 'round heah."
"Well then. I'm Cole. Cole Conlon," Cole had said, looking the boy up and down as if measuring his size.
Katie, who had been silent during this whole exchange, gazed at the boy. He must have felt her eyes on him, for he turned to her.
"An' whass dis? Some li'l church mouse?" The boy asked, waving a hand at Katie's pink nose, and referring to her silence.
"Katherine Redding. Nice to meet you...Cowboy." Katie said stiffly, her lips in a firm, thin line.
"Cawl me Jack Miss," He said, grinning. Katie licked her lips in annoyance.
Cole had broken the silence with an inquiry.
"So what's this that ya do Jack? Sell papers for a livin'?"
Jack nodded. "Papes. I'se a newsie. One day, I'll be da leadah."
Katie could almost feel Cole's blood pump faster, and hear his heart beat louder at the word 'leader.'
"Leader of what?" Katie had asked, wondering exactly what there could be to lead in selling 'papes'.
"The newsies," Jack said, looking at her as if she were stupid. "Boys need a leadah." He turned back to Cole. "We all stay at the lodgin' house, if you don't got nothin' to do ta make money or anywheah ta stay." He paused, and glanced at Katie. "We don't got no house fer goils though. She couldn't stay."
Katie could feel Cole tense, as he glanced at her as well. "Well, we gotta stay together. Me and her."
"Well Brooklyn has a goils' lodgin' house, fer newsgoils. Deah's not many, mind ya, but they'se got a place ta stay. Smallah den da Newsboys' House, but it's theah." Jack stared at Cole. "You'll fit in bettah theah anyway. Ya look like a kid who wants powah. Brooklyn'll give ya some."
It all went downhill when Cole had decided to go to Brooklyn. Jack Kelly had told of the reputations the Brooklynites had, and he wanted a reputation theat made girls weak in the knees and little boys run.
So he dragged Katie over the bridge on the spot. As Jack watched them go, he knew he himself would be leader of the Manhattan newsies one day soon, but possibly sooner, Cole Conlon would become a great, and feared leader. Famous too, he could tell.
Conlon would be a name guaranteed to make anyone nervous.
And in the past three months, Katie had been tossed into a house not-exactly-filled with girls. Three others, besides herself, to be exact.
Amelia Parker, known in the newsies' world as Mugger, was a tough one. You wouldn't expect it from her appearance, as she was a short little thing. Around thirteen or fourteen, she had short, frizzy, curly brown hair, nearly black, and eyes just as dark. Her skin was a tan olive, and her muddy complexion and slightly chubby body didn't make her THE most attractive person in the world, but under her tough exterior, she really was a sweet girl.
Amy O'Grady, a young girl of ten, was as Irish as they come, and her age and country of birth had prevented her from a factory job, not to mention that both of her parents and her brother had died of Scarlet Fever on the way to America three years before. No one wanted Irish girls. But she was a cute little girl. Her red hair was usually mussed and tangled, and her bright green eyes usually twinged with laughter. Her flaming red hair earned her the name Carrot.
And the last, Lisa Macaulay, had paper straight brown hair, with highlights from the sun similar to Katie's. It's length and quality matched Katherine's as well, but Katie had to admit, in the looks department, Lisa came out on the higher end. Her honey brown eyes and her equally honey-colored skin matched perfectly, and her high cheekbones, perfectly triangle nose, and full, tan-pink lips sold her plenty of papes.
And she was formed; what Katie wanted to be. She had a chest, thighs, a seat, and curves everywhere else; enough to drive a man wild. And she was only a year Katie's senior. They called her Scots, for lack of creativity on her day of names.
Lisa was Scottish, and Katie's guess was that the person who gave her her name had searched for one out of the gutter, and coming up lacking, had resorted to Scots.
Katherine wasn't too thrilled about her own name either. Jack Kelly, curse him, had given her a name the first day they had met. Church Mouse. As they were crossing the Brooklyn Bridge, Cole had begun to call her that, apparently finding it very humorous.
Katie was not amused.
"Come on Katie, all the newsies have nicknames, and that's what you'll be from now on."
Katie had wanted to ask him exactly when he had become in charge of what she would do, but she realized, quite wisely, that she had nothing better to do. And she wouldn't let herself be more seperated from Cole than was absolutely necessary.
"So what's YOUR name gonna be Conlon?" She asked, feeling quite sinppety now that they were alone, without that annoying, if not handsome, newsie around.
"Don't have one yet Redding," He said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he uttered her last name.
She stuck her tongue out at him before turning away. They got lost about three times on their way to Brooklyn, for Cole, full of pride, never asked for directions, a fact that made Katie want to reach out and throttle him.
Now, looking back on that oh-so-fateful day, Katherine felt a pang. That day was her last one joking with Cole, smiling at him, watching the way his jaw moved when he spoke, stealing glances at him out of the corner of her eye.
As soon as they had gotten to Brooklyn, Cole had spotted a lone newsboy. It was nearing sunset, and finally, at the thought of possibly sleeping outside in an alley, Cole strutted up to the boy who seemed about eleven, and asked him where the Lodging House was.
"Hold on. I'se almos' done sellin'. I'll wawk back witcha." And as they watched, he quickly sold the last of his papes, all the while yelling in that same odd accent.
As soon as they had arrived, Cole had been swooped down upon by an attracitve, muscular boy of about sixteen. The young man's eyes were as dark as his black shirt, and his black curls cascaded onto his forehead. He introduced himself, his accent the same as the newsboy they now knew as Volume.
The boys called him Top; and he explained it briefly, saying that the leader before him told him that one day, he would be Top Dog. The name stuck, but dropped the second word. Top. It seemed to fit the handsome boy quite well.
Always on the watch, Top saw Cole's backward glance, and felt his hesitation as Top led him into the House.
Turning, Top saw Katie for the first time. He was taken aback at her hair, as everyone was. It shone even in the setting sun, the shadows seeming to go around it. At a closer insepction, he was surprised to find that she wasn't a knock-out. Eyebrows raised, he scanned the docks.
"Scots!" He yelled, looking in the direction of a boy and a girl who were conversing on the end of the dock.
To Katie's astonishment, it was not the boy who turned, but the girl.
"Yeah?" she called back, turning her gaze to Top. She shielded her eyes from the glare of the sun at the horizon.
"Come 'ere! I got a new goil foah ya!"
At that, Scots jogged over to the small group, her skirts swaying. As she came closer, Katie saw how very pretty she was, despite her dirty face and hands, and how grubby her clothes were. Katherine cringed inwardly at what she knew to be true--she'd be that unclean in a a few days' time.
"Really? Where is she?" Scots asked, looking at Top, her voice light and airy and carriyng the traces of a lovely Scottish accent that seemed to have faded ever-so-slightly.
Top nodded in Katie's direction, and as Scots looked at her, Katie felt her eyes stop on the blonde locks, then travel down her face and body, as if she were sizing her up. Which she was.
"Hey. I'm Lisa. They call me Scots. You will too, eh?" Katie found herself smiling at the way the girl pronounced her words, in spite of her inhibitions at being there.
"Yes..." Katie began, trailing off, "I'm Katie. nice to meet you."
The two girls shook hands, and when a few boys lolly-gagging on the steps snickered, Scots rolled her eyes as Katie looked in their direction, confused.
"Women." Top said. "Shake hand's wi' me boy," He said to Cole. Cole stuck out his hand, and Top promptly spit into his own before holding it out to Cole.
After a slight hesitation, Cole shrugged, spit in his hand, and shook with Top.
Katie wrinkled her nose as Scots voiced her opinion. "Disgusting. Which is why we girls don't do it."
Top laughed, and Scots made a face at him, triyng not to smile.
"Well Katie, come on. We better get inside. Mrs. Pan cooks us girls dinner on Saturdays."
And so the girls had gone one way, into another, smaller building across the street from the boys, and the boys had gone the other.
Thus beginning the seperation of Cole Conlon and Katherine Redding.
Thus beginning the transformation of Cole Conlon to the hard, unfeeling Spot Conlon.
Katie didn't know how Cole had gotten his name, Spot, and frankly, she didn't really care.
"Mouse!" Katie heard a call from down the stairs, and she shook herself out of her memories.
"These weeks are gone and done Katherine. Cole is gone. He's...Spot now. Get used to it..." Katherine spoke to herself quietly before calling back, "I'm coming!"
Selling was getting easier as well. The first day of selling, Katie had bought thirty, and sold exactly fourteen. Now, today, buying thirty, she sold every single paper, but highly doubted she would get much better than that for a long time.
At Greeley's that afternoon, Scots plopped herself down next to Top, who smiled, making his handsome face even more attractive.
Katie sat down tentatively next to Mugger, who smirked at her. Smirking was as close as Mugger got to smiling, at least in public. In the privacy of their room, she was all smiles and laughs.
Katie watched Spot. Cole. No Spot; for Cole was gone. Buried somewhere underneath that exterior that had rapidly taken him over.
He sat at the right hand of Top, who had adopted him as his sidekick. Katie knew however, that as soon as Top left, Spot would become leader. She felt it in her heart of hearts, as Beth would say.
The door opened, and out of habit, nearly every head turned toward the sound of the bell's jangling.
A young man of about seventeen strolled in, a younger boy at his heels. Katie didn't recognize the older boy, but the younger one gave her a start.
It was Jack Kelly, his hair falling over his eyes as he adjusted the bandana around his neck.
"Top. We'se got business ta handle," the older one said, his cat green eyes glittering dangerously.
"What kin'a business Quail?" Top asked, not missing a beat.
"Harlem." Quail said pointedly, shaking his blonde hair out of his eyes. Katie couldn't decide if he was handsome or not. "Top. Can we'se tawk about dis outside?" He added, motioning to the door.
"Me boys'll find out whethah you tell 'em now or I tell 'em latah." Top shot back, licking his lips, Spot smirking at his side.
Katie had noticed that in the time they had been there, that smirk had intensified from the inncoent, humorous expression she had known back in the country; to what it was now: a hardened, smoking hot smirk that made her heart pound with emotions she did not understand.
Quail sighed, comtemplating. Katie decided that he had a cuteness that grew on her. Finally, after a long silence, where Top and Quail stared at one another as Jack and Spot did likewise, Carrot broke the tension with a sneeze, her red hair flying as she rocked forward.
"Awright Top. Harlem's been causin' some trouble in 'Hattan. Some a me boys been comin' home with nice shinahs and some bloody noses. Now dat ain't too unusual, but it's moah den dere usually is. From what they tellin' me, it's da same group a five guys e'ery time. I had some a me boys go out and track 'em. They followed 'em ta Harlem."
Here he paused, and glanced at Jack.
"We followed 'em ta Harlem," Jack began, and evidently he had been a spy, "They'se newsies. It's five of 'em, all 'em about sixteen oah seventeen. Last 'Hattan newsie they soaked was nine."
Katie uttered an audible gasp. A scuffle between teenage boys was normal, but for a strong, tough young man to go after a little boy who couldn't fend for himself as a result of brawn alone, or lack thereof; that was unacceptable.
Quail and Jack glanced at her for a brief second before turning back to Top.
"So far it's juss been shinahs and bruises. But i'm tellin' ya Top, if it gets any woise; if one a me boys comes back with some serious injury, oah doesn' came back at awl; den we'se goin' out ta get 'em." Quail finished, his outh set in a firm, stubborn line.
Spot spoke up for the first time, when Top didn't reply.
"And ya need Brooklyn's help huh?" Katie was mesmerized at how quickly he had picked up the ruggedly harsh Brooklyn accent.
Quail stared at Spot for a moment. He seemed to be debating whether or not he should soak the kid for talking back at him, or should just answer.
Something in the boy's eyes made him stop the retort he felt coming. There was an intensity in them, an intensity that burned with the fire of determination. An intensity that demanded respect.
"Yeah. We need Brooklyn." Quail's mouth was set in a thin line as he replied, his arms crossed.
Top stood, walked over to Quail, and spit in his hand, holding it out to his fellow leader.
"If ya need help, I'd be happy ta give ya some," he said, simpering.
Quail nodded, a slight, relieved smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He supressed it quickly, and returned the spit-shake.
And with that, the Manhattan leader and Jack turned and sauntered out of Greeley's.
A few days later, Brooklyn would join forces with Manhattan. For the newsie called Kid had been soaked. And the expression, "You're gonna poke somebody's eye out!" became an all too harsh reality.
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Skittles: Thanks so much! The best Prologue? Jeeeeez it was not...LOL I jsut though one was needed...Hee hee...Here's stuff you haven't read--and the next chappie os more than halfway done, so I'm right on schedule!!! yeah baby! *does the cabbage patch*
Sparkles and Chronicles Bailey--Here ya go goilees...more!
Lucky--I know, kinda sad...But here's what happens when they get to NYC! I hope ya enjoyed it!
Come now, click the button and give me the coolest, most innovative review ever! *laughs*
New reviewers will get a very nice reviewer dance, consisting of the Hustle, the Cabbage Patch, and very possibly some moves from my personal rain/snow dance, which kicks i must say.
And of course, if Rhys is reading...i'll take a page from...Omni? I think it was, correct me if im dead wrong, which i prolly am...But either way, I'll take a page from ehr book and bestow upon you OJ and animal crackers...or graham crackers or whatever the hell crackers it was.....But i need some kickin reviews from my MST goilees!!
Chelci
Glimmer Conlon O'Leary