DISCLAIMER: These characters do NOT belong to me unfortunately. I tried to kidnap
them from Disney and was unsuccessful. Go figure. However, Runner and Mallory are
MINE, and so is Josephine, Aunt Patricia, and Daisy! Muahahaha! So take that, Mickey!!

A.N.

~SORRY!!! I know this update took forever but I've been out of it, lately. My dad
had surgery the other day and it's just been like 'bleh!' LoL. ALso, I've been
dealing with the guy I have a crush on. *_* :slips into a daydream: Yea, well,
anywayz, thanks for all those reviews, goils! Ya make me day!

~ATTENTION!!! Because of a majority rule, Mallory's way of speaking will in fact
be lessened by a certain degree, lol. Yay for Contractions! w00t w00t! The chapter
alotta youse has been waitin' for! Spot's try at Mallory!! yAAAy!! Hahaha. Also, for
my Runner fans out there, the kid is in this chapter too! : ) Enjoy everybody!


*Angel: w00t w00t! I got your story, and started reading it!! YaaaY I wuv it! Spot is
the man! Heehee. And I love him when he's jealous. *sigh* I'll correct it over the
weekend a.s.a.p! Thanks for the review! Enjoy this chapter!


*bl33ding p03t: My friend once taught me the "l337" language, but I never got a hold
of it, lol. Yaaay, dances for chapters! I think Spot may be amused. LoL! Thanks, thanks
thanks for the reviews!!! Have fun with Chapter 4!!


*Drama-Queen: Another review, another chapter indeed. Sorry it took so long, though.
:sighs: Forgive me? : ) Well, thanks for reviewing. I'm glad you like the story so
far!


*Snuggles: Oooo, get that Brian kid!!! He doesn't like that girl! BLEH!!! Do you
talk to him often, or just give him looks? *giggles* Ah, high school crushes are
rather enthralling, no? I happen to have a crush on a guy who reminds me of Spot too.
Not so much in his appearance, but more so in his attitude. He walks around so suave
and he just has this monotonous air about him that makes me melt on the spot! LoL,
no pun intended. Anyways, his name is Andre and I'm meeting him on Tuesday because
my friend told him that I like him and now he wants to meet me. *trembles in fear*
Ahhhh, I'm so nervous!!! Heya, you should give Brian a Valentine's Card *nudge, nudge*
I think that would be cute. Then me and you can sit together and talk about our
Spot-look-alike boyfriends! *giggles* Good luck!


*asp: Nifty plot, ay? I like that word. I use it a lot. : ) Yea, you're not the only
one who had a problem with Mallory's speech so I did decided to 'tone it down' as you
suggested. And woohoo, I even worked it into the storyline somehow! LoL! Thanks for
the review and I hope you enjoy this next chapter!


*Shortie: A dying review button... *considers it* Not bad, I think I may take use of
that idea at the end of this chapter, lol! Ah, Runner is the MaN! LoL, I fall for the
badboys too. Heehee, they's so cute! *pinches Runner's cheeks as he glares at her*
Back to soaking Mallory, I see. Don't worry, Spot takes care of that speech problem
for us all. : ) In a more civil manner, mind you. Hahaha. Bronchitis sucks nickels,
and yet, I've already given the illness to like, two other characters in separate
stories I had written, *shrugs* I think my grandma has asthma or something so it kinda
gives me an idea about the whole short of breath thing. *Spot urges Morning Dew to
hurry up already so that he can get to Mallory* Sheesh, no patience at all! AH, Spot
wanted me to deliver you a message. "I'll never get over meself, I'se just such a gift
tah mankind." *shakes head* Well, what did you expect, he's a Conlon! Anywho, onto
the next chapter, my dear! EnJoY!


*SportyChik425: Spot cheating, hmm? *gives Spot suspicious look* Ya just never know
with these Conlons, especially when you have a kid like Runner in the family. : )
Hahaha, I wuv Jack. *applauds Jack for 'keeping it cool'* Yup, ya gotta love guys
who can give a heart-jerking speech like that and put people in their places! w00t
w00t! Well, thanks for the reviews!!! Have fun with Chapter 4!!







Just A Little Bet




~*~*~*~*~ Runner swung open the doors of the Brooklyn lodging house as if he had been

owning the place since its establishment and sauntered into the dimly lit main room with

a proud grin and air that seemed to enliven the area. However, there were no newsies

present to greet his arrival, for obviously the boys were busy selling their papers

across the borough, trying to earn enough cents to buy them a decent meal and to pay

for their housing. The boy jogged up the broken-down staircases that led to a second

story, each step nearly shredded down into splinters so that one would think the

structure might collapse any minute. Once on stable ground, Runner continued his walk

to Spot's room, which was straight down the hall, shut off in privacy by means of a

thick, mahogany door that offset the ugly shades of brown of the lodging house's

interior.




For a moment, as Runner's fingers grasped the rusty knob of Spot's door, he thought to

knock, to at least have the audacity to respect his older cousin's personal space, but

the idea was instantly pushed aside and he turned the knob quickly, exposing himself

in the doorway.




The first thing that reached his ears was a girl's scream, but undaunted by its volume

he only looked on and started laughing at the predicament he had fallen into. Then of

course there was a moment in which Spot's threatening glare sent a chill through him,

yet even so the fear was dispelled and he could not help but find the amusement in it

all. The girl, a tall blonde with her shirt halfway buttoned and her stockings pulled

down to her feet from under a skirt, gathered her bearings and stormed out the room

nearly in tears, too embarassed to even do so much as look Runner's way.




Spot on the other hand, remained on the edge of his bed, still fully dressed and in

a disposition so suave, Runner knew he was in for it if he did not have an explanation.

"Runnah, d'ya know how long I'se been tryin' tah get that goil tah even step foot in

me room?"




"You ask me as if I care." Runner looked away, surprised by his bold comment. He knew

he was skating on thin ice whenever he messed with Spot's temper, but it was so much

fun to challenge him! "Besides, I come on important matter. I passed my examinations!"




"Youse tell me as if I'se care," Spot threw back. He rested his back against the

headboard of his bunk and stretched his legs out onto the mattress. "And what's wid the

richy accent? It's annoyin' me."




Runner walked the length of the room, enjoying its simplicity. Not the glorious

intimidation of a gothic cathedral, just a basic living that suited him all the more.

Studying the objects on a desk situated against the room's only window, he picked up

Spot's slingshot and pulled back its shooting band, triggering memories of when he

had been a Brooklyn newsie. Now that he thought of it, he had no idea what had happened

to the slingshot Spot had made him. "Ah, sorry. I'se forgots I'se wasn't associatin'

wid the thoroughbreds."




"What's that suppose tah mean?"




"I'se dunno," Runner laughed. "I hoid some hoity toity say it tah a bum on the street

and I thought it was funny. 'Specially when the bum gave the bastard a black eye." He

grinned at the humor and in his face, Spot saw all the malice the boy was

capable of, a true Brooklynite. He remembered how girls use to say that he and Runner

looked identical, though he never knew a more falsely statement.




Runner's features were sharper. Spot often thought of him as a woodland sprite, those

mischievous little creatures that roamed throughout the forests playing pranks on

the generations and laughing to their heart's content. The younger of the cousins also

had lighter blonde hair of a rougher texture, its strands only falling to a length just

above his ears, and whereas Spot's eyes were a green-blue color that often adopted

a grey shade when he was in his worse moods, Runner's were always a bright sea green,

shining like a pair of emeralds left in the desert sands. But their most distinctive

difference was naturally their heights, Spot being two and a half inches taller.




Spot sighed. "Ya came all the way from Manhattan and interrupted me session wid that

goil just tah tell me ya passed some damn examination?"




"I thought ya'd like tah know!" Runner turned to face him, putting the slingshot down,

and gave him an indignant look. "Youse is the foist person I told!"




"I find that kinda hard tah believe considerin' ya parents were probably just outside

the testin' room, ready tah heah the news."




Runner's face seemed to darken for the slightest moment, but just as quickly it returned

to its playful expressions. "No, they had a meeting to attend, naturally. Father

believes it of the utmost importance to please those who ordained him, even if it does

mean missing out on his family's life half the time."




Spot noticed the change of accent again, and this time he even picked up on the spark of

anger that had accompanied each syllable. "Listen, I'se gots a goil tah meet in

Manhattan in a bit. Wanna come along?"




"Nah, I should be gettin' back tah me place." As he began walking out the room, he

smirked. "And about that goil youse were just wid, however long it took ya tah finally

convince her, I'se coulda done it in less time."




"Oh really?" Spot raised an eyebrow at this. "Ya know, I'se don't remember the last

time youse even had a goil, Runnah."




The younger shrugged. "I'se live in a damn monastery; I can't exactly be bringin'

goils in there. 'Sides, I get kinda supersticious of all the marble figures in that

choich. I mean, would youse really make out wid a goil when ya had a statue of Jesus

starin' youse down?"




Spot burst out laughing and had to admit he probably would not.




* * * * *




As Spot leaned against the firm iron beam of a street lightpole, he thought about how

he could possibly differentiate himself from Jack and Race. He was not the biggest

fan of art and so would definitely not be taking Mallory out to a museum of some

sort to gaze at paintings created by men ages dead, and he never really was in the

mood to sit down at a fancy restaurant with a five-man orchestra at his tableside

playing the finest selections from classical music; he did not have Race's patience.

Thinking of Race, he still had no clue as to how the Italian had convinced Mallory

to join him for an elegant dinner. Apparently, she had been quite hungry at the time

he had asked and so accepted his invitation. It figured.




He brought a small slip of paper from out of his pocket and stared down at the address

written upon it. 245 Morningside. Thanks to one of his birds, the Brooklyn spies ever

present throughout the City, he had been able to obtain the exact location of Mallory's

residence. And a residence it was! A Victorian townhouse painted in shades of creme

and cafe with a finely kept garden in the small, gated front porch it was alloted and

a fuzzy doormat at the steps decorated with small daisies and the word 'Welcome'. Spot

smirked at the details and proceeded up the steps until he was eye level with the

brass numbers that marked the house and raised his hand to knock.




"Coming!" he heard a voice from inside reply, and a few moments later, the door was

slightly opened with two chestnut brown eyes peeking out through the crack. "Spot,

whatever are you doing here?!"




Spot pushed the door further ajar and let himself in, smiling down at the girl in a

way that put her immediately on guard. She stepped back and bid him entrance, though

had she the strength and patience she would have fought with him unrelentingly until

he eventually left her to peace, and showed him to the sitting room where he plopped

down onto a velvety couch and sighed. "So how's is ya day so far?"




"It was going well, thank you," she said with a smile. "But then you had to show up."

She looked back playfully, assuring him it was only a joke. "How were you aware of

my whereabouts anyways? I do not remember telling you..."




"I'se guessed?" He took notice of a framed picture on the table beside him of a younger

Mallory sitting on a woman's lap. Behind them was a man with his hands resting atop

the woman's shoulder, and all three individuals smiled as radiantly as one could

imagine. Spot looked up at her. "Is these ya parents?"




"Yes, that was taken when I was eleven years old. I remember that day so vividly, its

memories are still living on in my heart. My mother had been curling my hair as I

stood before a mirror ironing the minutest wrinkle out of my dress with my hands. My

father walked in then with a bouquet of roses and he gave it to her with a kiss...they

were so in love." She sighed and her eyes glazed over as she reminisced. "It was so

wondrous, like a magical fairy tale being unwound and coming to life. I miss her so..."




Spot laughed. "Ya know, youse should loosen up some, Mal. Ya always seem kinda uptight.

I mean, shoah youse gots a lot tah feel depressed about wid yer muddah being gone and

all, but youse should still find time tah enjoy life. Ya cooped up in this house alls

the time, unless one of me boys drags ya out fer dinner or whatever."




"Well, maybe I prefer the interior of my home to any hideous assemblage of bricks and

wood you might take me into!" she replied offensively.




"This is exactly what I'se talkin' about! Even the way ya talks needs some woik. Ya

sound like some richy from high society who screams at the sight of some newsie walkin'

by as if the kid's a cockroach. I'se tellin' ya, Mal, youse need tah lighten up."




The girl stood before him with clenched fists and a stern look, not bothering to hide

the anger he was causing her. First he barged into her house without even waiting for

her approval, then he began insulting her personality and dialect! It was unfathomable!

She honestly felt like beating him over the head with the broomstick she kept in the

kitchen closet. Such a nuisance he was being! "For the last time, my name is Mallory,

not Mal! Now will you please do me the favor of showing yourself out the door?"




"AH, come on," Spot said softly and almost pleadingly. "I'se just came by fer a visit.

Ya haven't even shown me ya room...although, we'se can get better acquainted there latah

tonight." He winked at her and showed off his most devious smirk.




Mallory gasped at the comment and shoved him away. "Out, out, out!!!" She grabbed

him by the back of his suspenders and pulled him with all her force, escorting him

through the halls and ultimately out the door. Spot nearly stumbled from having to

walk backwards, but once he was on the doorstep of the house he leapt forward in one

final attempt to get on the girl's good side, only to have the door slammed in his

face. "Mallory!" His knocks turned into agitated pounds and he was even contemplating

picking the lock.




"Go away!"




"Will youse let me in, goil? I'se just wanna talk tah youse! I'se sorry of I offended

ya, I was just tellin' ya how I felt. I mean, ya might be more likeable if youse got

rid of ya aristocratic crap."




She opened the door. "Spot Conlon, do you not speak the language I am currently using?

I said, Go Away!" She stood there, waiting for him to enact her wishes, but he only

emitted a light laugh and leaned against the outside wall of the house.




"Youse shoah is stubborn, Mal." He ran his fingers through his hair and stared at a

nun passing by on the sidewalks with a class of preparatory students in toll, all only

five or six years in age. "Heya!" He turned to her excitedly then and smiled. "Me

cousin's choich is puttin' on a play this weekend. Why don't ya come see it wid me?"




"I rather not," said the girl as she began closing the door.




Spot blocked it with his foot and opened it even wider. "C'mon, in honor of ya attempt

at lightening up. It'd be fun, and I'se aint gunna bite youse or anything! C'mon!"




Mallory groaned and looked back inside her house in search of Daisy. If Spot could not

be chased away by her demands, perhaps a dog's bite would do the trick. "I can not

afford to be spending my leisure with you and your companions any longer. My father's

health is worsening and I would very much appreciate it if you bothered me no longer.

I must care for him, not run off with some newsboy to catch the latest play!"




"Fair enough," the Brooklyn leader replied. "I'll woik out a deal wid youse. Go tah

this play wid me just this once and I'll never bother youse again. If ya don't like it,

then youse can go back tah ya little inside-goil life, but if ya do, I'd be more than

happy tah take youse out more often if ya father'd let ya."




"If I agree, will you please go away?"




Spot smirked. "But Mal, we'se didn't even go tah ya room tah play yet!" He was answered

with a door slammed into his face and reprimanded himself on having taken his shoe out

of the doorway. He hurried to the kitchen window on his left and called out through the

glass pane, "I'll pick youse up Saturday at five!"




* * * * *




Kid Blink and Mush were sitting on a table laughing at Race's best impressions of

Brooklyn's feared leader when a girl with jet black hair and piercing grey eyes suddenly

entered the Manhattan lodging house, soaking wet and obviously ticked off by that fact.

She twirled her hair between her hands and squeezed out every last drop of water from

the silky strands and then set to unpacking her canvas bag in search of a wooly jacket

which she pulled out with remarkable haste. She shivered within her drenched clothing

and hugged her arms around her thin body, only then noticing that at least fifteen

teenage boys were watching her every move.




Her first instinct was to stare back at them with wide, frightened eyes. Eyes that

would clearly show how lost and alone she was in this cruel city, but she cast aside the

demeanor she had once upheld and instead raised her head high and proud. "Who's the

leadah 'round heah?"




Blink approached her with a playful smile. "Hey sweety, how 'bout we'se help ya outta

those wet clothes?"




She gnarled her face at him. "And in return for ya kindness, I'll be shoah tah help

the doctor when he tries tah get me foot outta ya ass."




The lodging house erupted in laughter and Blink's face reddened from the bold comeback.

He hated the challenging girls; they reminded him of the dollfaces from Brooklyn who

were anything but dolls.




The girl walked to the center of the room. "Is I'se gunna be told where ya leadah is,

or am I gunna have tah beat the answer outta someone?!" She looked into each one's face

and narrowed her eyes at them, annoyed by their silence. "Well??"




A boy with a cigar neared her and with a reassuring smile, said something in a language

she could not understand, but which she assumed to be Italian. She furrowed her forehead

in confusion and shook her head at the alien words. "Jesus Christ! Will someone just

tell me wheah the hell is ya leadah! I'se cold, I'se hungry, I'se tired, I'se pissed

as all hell and the last thing I want is tah have tah go back out in that damn

rain and find me another place tah sleep!"




The front doors through which she had just entered only moments before creaked open

and in walked a tall boy wearing a cowboy hat to fend off the ammuntion of raindrops

that were thundering about the streets. The boy slid the hat back and stopped short

when he saw his newsies gathered in a tight throng, awaiting an order of some sort to

come from his lips. "Uh...what the hell is goin' on heah..." He did not even finish

the sentence when he saw the girl, standing in the middle of the newsies with arms

crossed in an impatient and irritable air. "Uh, is youse new heah?"




"No, I'se been livin' heah fer three months already," the girl replied sarcastically.

"Of coise I'se new!! Youse aint ever seen me heah before! Jesus, is ya all this stupid?

Listen, can I just get a bunk fer one friggin' night? I'se about tah pass out from

sleep deprivation!"




"Me name's Jack, I'se in charge 'round heah. Yea, youse can get yaself a lil' room

but let's get a few things straight. Foist off, youse'll adress me wid respect from

now on since I'se Manhattan's leadah and from the looks of it, ya'll probably woik as

a newsie under me charge. Secondly, if ya keep up the lil' attitude, don't think I'se

won't throw ya back out in the rain. Understand?"




The girl glared at him but nodded nonetheless.




"Ya got a name?"




She uncrossed her arms and rolled her eyes. "It's Snap." And after she was told where

the girls' bunkroom was and had ascended the staircase swinging her hips all the way up,

Jack shook his head with a laugh and aside to Race, said, "Snap. Go figure."




* * * * *




WoWzerZ! It's one o' clock in the morning over here! Ahhh, sleep deprivation!!! So
how is the story coming along so far?! Is everyone still interested? Hmmm? : )
Youse is all the best, ya know that right? So can i get some REVIEWS?!?!!?
REEEEEEEEEEVIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEW!!!!!!!!!! PLEASE?!?!?!?! LOL!!!! No slacking!!!
Click the button, click the button, click the button!!! You want to click the button,
you want to submit a REVIEW, you want to make MOrning Dew's day. Nod and agree.
C'mon kiddies, let's REVIEW AWAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Love ya all~