DISCLAIMER: Basically, to put it in simple dictation, all the characters in
Disney's Newsies belong to Disney. *SuRpRiSe* All the characters NOT in
Disney's Newsies belong to me, with the exception of Angel-she belongs to
herself. ^_^
A.N. What is this, Chapter 24? W00t w00t! Only 6 more at the most! This story has been long in the making, huh? *thinks* I'm ready to finish it up, so here comes another chapter! SHOUT-OUTS:
Cowgirl: Glad you're loving it, dollface. Here's more for ya!
Sweetness: Yea, a lot *did* happen in that chapter. Hmmm, even more will happen in this one. Muahaha! Thanks so much for your feedback; it's greatly appreciated!
Spider Chick: I'm writing more, I'm writing more! lol. Great to know you're enjoying the story, though. ^_^ Hope you like this new addition!
Apollonia: Yea, Runner went insane, huh? Silly kid; maybe if he had listened to Mallory just a few seconds more, none of this would've happened. *groans* Jeeez, Runner! I'm not sure what will happen between him and Spot, but we'll save that for next chapter. Too much drama! *runs away* Thanks for your faithful reviews!
CiCi: OoO, ya really think this could be a soap opera? That would be kind of cool! *thinks of the forthcoming fame* lol. Anywho, don't cry. *pats her head* And don't decapitate Runner's head, lol. Have you seen "The Three Musketeers"? The Disney version? This mean guy's going to cut off Dartagnan's head because he won't tell him the details about something, and D's like "NO!" The villain replies, "You don't want your head cut off?" and D answers "I happen to like where it is!" HAHAHA. *crickets chirp* okay, well it was funny for me! Here's another chapter!
Random: You can't live without more, eh? Well we certainly wouldn't want your life to be deprived of anything so here's another chapter! ^_^ *Runner smirks* Ah yes, so I told Runner that he's in denial concerning his want to marry you. He gave me the weirdest look. *shakes head* Men...Anywho, here's more Race for you, my goil!
Sita-Chan: Well, I'm most certainly glad that you've given Non-Slash fics a try, especially one written by myself. ^_^ It's always great receiving new reviewers and I'm glad you've been enjoying this read so far. I know it's a whopper of a story, but thanks for hanging in there. Enjoy this new chapter!
Devonny: Hahaha. Your review was for chapter four but I can't even remember what happened way back then...*thinks* I'm assuming Mallory was still in her upper-class mode then, though, so I'll just say keep reading and enjoy the chapters that lay ahead.
StupidChocolateGurl: w00t w00t! Thanks for your faithful reviews! ^_^ Yea, Mallory and Runner need to get it together. *groans* lol, have a good read this chapter around!
Ember: OoO, a first time reviewer you claim? I could have sworn you've reviewed this story before. *thinks* Or was it another one that I had written. Or maybe you're just in my "Avenger" cast. lol. You people confuse me!!! *runs around room pulling out her hair* Okay...I'm good. Sorry, lol. Thanks for reviewing, though! I love reviews!
*Just A Little Bet*
Now with Runner back on his feet, Spot had finally returned to the swing of things in his life as a newsie. In his absence, Brooklyn had been under the leadership of his trusted friend Scapegoat, but after only a few days, the borough had become a territory of chaos. Spot solved the dilemma within minutes, giving those who had defied Scapegoat's orders a good soaking and warning the others who watched on that it'd mean their life if they ever questioned his decisions again.
It hadn't taken too long for the Brooky's to settle back into routine, thereafter, for not even the most foolish among their brood would ever be so idiotic as to provoke Spot. And so seeing everything in order once again, their leader took to the streets, passing up the morning edition to instead organize his thoughts while the day was yet young.
Runner had seemed guarded yesterday while dining at Tibby's for lunch. He had even snapped at Blink when the eyepatch-wearing boy had continuously pressed questions at him concerning his stay in the hospital. Spot didn't blame him, for he was about to tell Blink to lay off as well, but it was never in the younger Conlon's nature to lash out at anyone as he had done.
'Maybe he's just trying to readjust,' Spot thought to himself. After all, Runner was a lighthearted spirit, one to never survive when confined to a single area. 'His parents keep 'im locked up alls the time, I'm surprised the kid hasn't run away again!' Spot had meant to ask his cousin what the problem was, but just as quickly as he had finished his sandwich the younger Conlon had disappeared out the diner without saying a word to anyone.
Concluding that Runner was simply in one of his 'moods', Spot continued strolling down the walks, once stopping before crossing a street to allow a horse-carriage passage before proceeding on. 'One day I'll have a carriage of me own,' he vowed to himself. 'And people will know me no matter where I'se goes.' The soles of his boots were wearing out and soon, he'd have to be in the market for a new pair. But until he had the means by which to purchase it, he'd have to force his tired feet through the painful miles of walking he took up every day. He cast one last glance at the carriage, and turned around a corner to head towards Downtown.
The number of crowds here were sparse; not quite radiating off the feeling of a ghost town but nearing it with incredible accuracy. Spot nodded at one of his boys selling papers in a far-off corner but never slackened in the speed of his stride. He returned his focus to the sights before him, his gaze affixed on a small edifice snuggled in between sky- scraping apartment buildings that made it pale in quality...but only in outward appearance.
Spot grinned as he neared the structure. Josephine's Place. He hadn't tasted a well-made breakfast in weeks! Back at the hospital, Angel would bring him bagels and such when on break, but there was nothing like a meal cooked with love and the elderly Josephine always conducted her humble business as so.
The Brooklyn leader swiped his hat off and allowed a passing breeze to comb through his sandy locks while he sighed in thought about how anxious he was to leave the Brooklyn lodging house. Not to say he didn't enjoy being leader, but sometimes the task was much too laborious, its trials far outweighing any pleasure he enjoyed from dictating people. He was ready for a change...was even old enough for one. Brooklyn's last leader had renounced his rank at age nineteen; Spot was months away from reaching that opportunity.
He fixed his cap back on and glanced at his reflection in a bookstore's window while passing to make sure it looked fine. While his eyes examined his appearance, though, they happened to look past the reflection into the store itself where he saw a near-empty room filled with rows upon rows of books. Yet it wasn't the vast selection of written works that had caught his attention. He scolded himself beforehand for wanting to accomplish what he was about to do, and groaned aloud before opening the door to the shop and letting himself in.
The place smelled of faded pages from an ancient volume and Spot crinkled his noise, unfamiliar to the scent. He greeted the young woman at the front desk and then traveled down an aisle of books in search of the person he had seen. When he reached the aisle's end, he cursed under his breath and turned around to try again, nearly jumping in surprise when he found himself eye-to-eye with the one he had been seeking.
"What are youse doin' heah?" Snap asked bluntly, her eyes glimmering with newfound hatred for the Brooklyn leader.
"What's it tah youse?" he threw back at her. "It's a free country, aint it? I can go wherever I please. And you shoah as hell aint gunna be one tah question it either."
"Oh don't get me wrong. I wouldn't question it...cause I'se don't give a crap." She turned swiftly away from him, her silky hair gliding across her shoulders as she did so, and left to a section of books towards the back of the store.
Spot glared after her. His pride wanted so very much to leave her right then and simply forget about the girl, but he inwardly knew it wouldn't be right. He knew it was partly his fault that all which had passed between him and Snap had crumbled down so violently. And if nothing was ever worked out, a resolution would never be reached. He clenched his fists to relieve stress and then relaxed his hands, trying to gain composure. A few seconds later, he followed after her.
Snap was in the middle of reading a sonnet when she heard someone approaching her from behind. At first she had thought it the store clerk wanting to ask her if she was finding everything all right. She rolled her eyes and shifted her weight, thinking of a sharp reply to the inquiry. More probable was it that the clerk was merely apprehensive about a street-rat being in the store, on the verge of stealing an item.
"Ya know," she said, her attention driven still to the book. "If I really wanted tah rob ya guys off, I woulda tied youse all up, hold a gun tah ya heads and threaten tah blow ya brains out if ya even breathed. Then I'se woulda taken whatever books suited me." Grinning at the bold statement, she turned around to see the woman's reaction, but her smile only dropped when she instead saw Spot before her.
"Are ya stalkin' me?" she asked, slamming the book shut and shoving it back onto the shelf from which she had taken it.
Spot leaned against the bookshelf and smirked. "Sorry tah disappoint ya, but I'se aint in the business of stalkin' people."
"Disappointed?" She laughed sarcastically. "Sweety, I think the only thing disappointed is ya manhood." Her laugh grew authentic when his expression became displeased. Sometimes, she believed it too easy to blow his ego. She disregarded his presence and scanned the titles of the books in front of her, hunting for a good read.
"So d'ya get that a lot?"
She looked at him. "What?"
"The scabs heah thinkin' youse is wanting tah steal off them?" He fixed his eyes back on her and watched how her feelings drastically changed. Just a moment earlier, she had stood proud and defiant, back straight and head held tall. But now her shoulders sagged the slightest degree and her eyes became distant. She faced him, then, and offered a sad smile.
"Too often, people woik so hard concentratin' on ya appearance that they's forget ya a person inside just like them." No longer seeing a challenge in him, she let her guard down halfway and loosened up. "But I'se guessin' it's our fault really. Some newsies swindle money outta their customers, some don't. It's the ones that do, though, that give us a bad name. And we'se just have tah learn how tah live wid that."
Spot nodded slowly. "Yea, but if youse don't ever try tah change things, then what's the point?" They stood there looking at each other, forgetting the surroundings around them, each asking themselves why their conversations had always been meaningless ones full of bitter rivalry when they were quite capable of discussing issues such as this.
Snap was the first to break away from the stare, taken aback that she had given Spot a glimpse into her beliefs. Wasn't he a specimen of those who earned the 'bad names'? Why was he suddenly so concerned? She turned back to the books she had means to read and tried to rekindle her disgust for the Brooklyn leader. "Then again," she said, "why am I takin' lessons from youse? Ya just represent the lower-class bastard who treats goils like they's nothin'."
Spot was shocked by the outburst but didn't show it in his calm facade. More than anything, he tried to control his urge to yell back at her. "Listen, I'se didn't come heah tah argue wid youse..."
"Then leave!"
"I'll leave when it pleases me, and not a damn minute sooner!" He stepped forward violently, but she was prepared for his offenses and slapped him hard before he could come closer. His eyes were blazing with fury now, but they couldn't penetrate her stone-cold look.
"Get it through ya thick skull, Conlon. I aint gunna let youse push me 'round no more. The only reason I'm in Brooklyn tahday is 'cause I've been comin' tah this bookstore since I was little. As soon as I get what I'se came for, I'll be gone. Okay?" Tired of looking upon him, she faced a new shelf of books and tried to occupy her mind with sorting out their titles.
"Ya aint even got a reason tah boss me like ya do ya newsies. I'se aint screwin' youse or ya ass of a friend no more, so lay off it, huh? The only reason I'se did it in the foist place was tah help out me family back home. It was a bet, ya high-and-mighty. But ya probably already familiar wid things like that, right?" She gave him a harsh glare. "So I'd appreciate it if ya stop thinkin' youse is so above everyone else, 'cause ya not."
Spot despised the way she had gone about so meticulously laying his pride and honor on the altar to slice up and destroy with her bitterness. He would've spit on the ground and walked out curtly just to enrage her, but something dawned on him then. Something she had said during her rant perked his interest. 'The only reason I'se did it in the foist place was tah help out me family back home...' What had she meant by that?
"Are youse tryin' tah get me tah apologize wid ya lil' guilt-trip story?"
"Gimme a break, huh?" She pushed past him to see the collection of books that lay beyond. "Why would I'se care whether ya forgave me or not?"
He followed behind her a yard or so, casually running his hand over the bindings of a volume he found, a collection of poems. He tipped the book back and let it fall into his hands, opening it and flipping through the pages of fine script. "So it's true?"
"It's none of ya business."
"So? I still wanna know. Ya wouldn't have brought it up if youse didn't want me asking 'bout it. So now I am. Is it true? Was ya family in trouble or somethin'?" As he waited for her reply, he breezed through a sonnet he had once learned about at St. John's when he had been a student at the private school. The words brought back old memories and he almost smiled.
Snap watched this action and figured sharing the details of the event with him probably wouldn't do as much harm as she feared. Maybe it'd even alleviate matters between them. "Me father's aint exactly what someone would call a righteous man," she started, resting her back onto a wall once she had reached the end of the aisle. "Since I'se was five, he'd come home drunk like a damned fool and beat on me muddah and me like we'se was doity whores there for his pleasure. When me muddah left, I became the woman of the house...and tah him that meant more than just cooking 'is meals and cleanin' after 'im.
"I did it only 'cause he said he'd go after me sistahs if I wasn't a 'good goil'. I hated very minute of it, hated him more and more by the day. It wasn't long 'fore he was sellin' me off tah his friends when our income wasn't rollin' in smoothly. Whenever a drug deal went wrong wid one of 'is customers, he'd just close the agreement offerin' me as payment. I ran away eventually, became one of A.J.'s newsies." She paused for a moment and thought upon how kind the Staten Island leader had been when welcoming her into his borough. A bit of a rough-edged personality, but deep inside he hid a warm heart and she had embraced his gentleness many times.
"Anyways, me sistahs was still livin' in that shack of a home and I knew it'd be up tah me tah save 'em. But I'se didn't have no money tah send 'em tah a nice place, and I definitely didn't want them becomin' newsgoils. So I took up a bet from A.J. and once the pool of money was at a reasonable price, I came tah Manhattan tah do me job. Get youse and Jack tah fall for me, and then ruin ya friendship wid 'im. When I'se was done, I collected me money and was able tah send me sistahs tah St. John's monastery in Morningside Heights."
Spot only nodded his head again, trying to digest all the information she had spilt in a mere five minutes. He hadn't expected her to relate such a tale to him, hadn't expected her to be one of the few in New York who ruined their lives just to save a loved one. But when she had done just that, he saw her in a new light then. He saw her as the unselfish person he had always wanted to be.
Snap saw his thought process and crossed her arms. "So how's it feel tah be on the other side of the bet?"
"Kinda weird," he answered with a shrug. "But that's how life woiks sometimes, right?"
She smiled at him, and for the first time during the weeks she had known him, it was a genuine expression she didn't have to feign. What brightened the moment even better was when he smiled back at her in the same way.
~*~*~*~*~
Charles Hutton blew one of his mangy curls out his eyes and tried to obtain a better grip on Jumper's foreleg so that he could pry a miniature stone from the racing horse's iron shoe. "Ye blasted beast, stand still!" He repositioned himself onto his knees and rested Jumper's hoof onto his thigh. "Alright, lad. We almost got ya problem 'ere." Just as the end of the pick he was using touched the stone in question, the horse neighed nervously and leapt backwards, knocking Charles upside down.
"Ye bloody fool! Don't ye know I was only tryin' to help youse?" The boy snatched the pick off the hay-covered ground and tossed it into a nearby pail. "When Mr. Webster asks me why there's still a rock in ya shoe, don't expect me to cover for ye, ya hear me?"
"Charles?" a voice laughed from behind him. "Who are you talking to?"
The boy spun around and smiled at the sight of Becca hand in hand with her newsboy friend Racetrack. He greeted her with a hug, for since Valentine's Day they had grown as closer friends, and shook hands with Race. "Well, I'll leave ya two alone," he grinned, giving Becca a knowing look.
Becca shook her head and laughed again, thinking upon how much she had missed when she hadn't first accepted Charles' sense of humor. But he had proven a loyal companion, and she was thankful he had been patient with her. She plopped down onto a stack of hay tied up with white rope and looking up to Race, patted the empty area next to her.
He took her up on the offer and joined her on the makeshift seat. "So where do we'se go from heah?" he whispered to her as he took her hand into his own and traced the velvety nature of her skin. The night she had come to him sobbing, Becca had stayed over at the lodging house until Race had walked her to her own apartment the next morning. Following the event, Webster gave her a few days off from work...affording her ample time to revaluate herself and grow stronger emotionally.
"I'm not sure," she answered him in that southern twang he adored. "But I'm reckoning that whatever it is, we should take it slow, ya know?"
"Yea, you're right." He stroked her carrot-colored tresses and smiled at her warmly. "When are ya gunna start woikin' heah again?"
She pursed her lips in thought and mused over that. She wasn't sure whether she really did want to return to Sheepshead at all! It brought with it too many memories; too many reveries she refused to relive. She wanted a life that was a breath of fresh air every day. She wanted to be free and open with the ones closest to her, not boxed up and guarded.
"Not any time soon...I just don't feel ready." She looked to him for his response and when he nodded, she couldn't help but grin. Race had been such a comfort to her from the time she had first met him. He always seemed to be there for her no matter what, sacrificing whatever was required to win her affection. And won it he had! She would fail miserably if ever she tried to suppress her feelings for him. Every single thing about him drove her crazy.
The way his chocolate brown eyes made her melt when he gazed at her with a dreamy look. The way his smile was one that conveyed both fondness and mischief. The way he held her tight while she sat on his lap and whispered the loveliest of things into her ear under a star-filled sky. She couldn't imagine what life without him would entail! It was Race who had helped her confront and conquer her past. Where would she be without him?
"You know, Race," she said softly, too shy to meet his eyes. "I've never felt like this before...the way I feel about you. I've never met someone who...who made me, like..."
Race cut her off short when he turned her face towards him and gently pressed his lips against her own, deepening the kiss while he brought her closer to him. He felt her uneasiness, but chased it away by continuing to be gentle in his advances, softly rubbing her arms as he leaned her back. "I feel the same way," he answered with a sparkle in his eyes. "I've known alotta goils in me life, Becca, but the minute I saw youse..." He didn't finish, for he didn't want to ruin the confession with inadequate words.
Instead, he brought his face down and kissed her again, small pecks until she parted her lips and let him venture forth into her mouth. Getting a rush from the opportunity, he propped himself up on his elbows and gazed down at her lovingly. "I'se don't want it tah be like this," he said simply.
A bit disappointed but understanding the reasons why, Becca took the hand he offered and sat back up next to him, finding comfort in the hug he gave her. "Then when?" she whispered into his ear, before kissing his hair and resting her head onto his shoulder.
Race thought for a moment and then interlocked his fingers with hers. "When we'se shoah we'se love each other." With tears in her eyes, she threw her arms around his neck and embraced him.
~*~*~*~*~
Review! ^_^
A.N. What is this, Chapter 24? W00t w00t! Only 6 more at the most! This story has been long in the making, huh? *thinks* I'm ready to finish it up, so here comes another chapter! SHOUT-OUTS:
Cowgirl: Glad you're loving it, dollface. Here's more for ya!
Sweetness: Yea, a lot *did* happen in that chapter. Hmmm, even more will happen in this one. Muahaha! Thanks so much for your feedback; it's greatly appreciated!
Spider Chick: I'm writing more, I'm writing more! lol. Great to know you're enjoying the story, though. ^_^ Hope you like this new addition!
Apollonia: Yea, Runner went insane, huh? Silly kid; maybe if he had listened to Mallory just a few seconds more, none of this would've happened. *groans* Jeeez, Runner! I'm not sure what will happen between him and Spot, but we'll save that for next chapter. Too much drama! *runs away* Thanks for your faithful reviews!
CiCi: OoO, ya really think this could be a soap opera? That would be kind of cool! *thinks of the forthcoming fame* lol. Anywho, don't cry. *pats her head* And don't decapitate Runner's head, lol. Have you seen "The Three Musketeers"? The Disney version? This mean guy's going to cut off Dartagnan's head because he won't tell him the details about something, and D's like "NO!" The villain replies, "You don't want your head cut off?" and D answers "I happen to like where it is!" HAHAHA. *crickets chirp* okay, well it was funny for me! Here's another chapter!
Random: You can't live without more, eh? Well we certainly wouldn't want your life to be deprived of anything so here's another chapter! ^_^ *Runner smirks* Ah yes, so I told Runner that he's in denial concerning his want to marry you. He gave me the weirdest look. *shakes head* Men...Anywho, here's more Race for you, my goil!
Sita-Chan: Well, I'm most certainly glad that you've given Non-Slash fics a try, especially one written by myself. ^_^ It's always great receiving new reviewers and I'm glad you've been enjoying this read so far. I know it's a whopper of a story, but thanks for hanging in there. Enjoy this new chapter!
Devonny: Hahaha. Your review was for chapter four but I can't even remember what happened way back then...*thinks* I'm assuming Mallory was still in her upper-class mode then, though, so I'll just say keep reading and enjoy the chapters that lay ahead.
StupidChocolateGurl: w00t w00t! Thanks for your faithful reviews! ^_^ Yea, Mallory and Runner need to get it together. *groans* lol, have a good read this chapter around!
Ember: OoO, a first time reviewer you claim? I could have sworn you've reviewed this story before. *thinks* Or was it another one that I had written. Or maybe you're just in my "Avenger" cast. lol. You people confuse me!!! *runs around room pulling out her hair* Okay...I'm good. Sorry, lol. Thanks for reviewing, though! I love reviews!
*Just A Little Bet*
Now with Runner back on his feet, Spot had finally returned to the swing of things in his life as a newsie. In his absence, Brooklyn had been under the leadership of his trusted friend Scapegoat, but after only a few days, the borough had become a territory of chaos. Spot solved the dilemma within minutes, giving those who had defied Scapegoat's orders a good soaking and warning the others who watched on that it'd mean their life if they ever questioned his decisions again.
It hadn't taken too long for the Brooky's to settle back into routine, thereafter, for not even the most foolish among their brood would ever be so idiotic as to provoke Spot. And so seeing everything in order once again, their leader took to the streets, passing up the morning edition to instead organize his thoughts while the day was yet young.
Runner had seemed guarded yesterday while dining at Tibby's for lunch. He had even snapped at Blink when the eyepatch-wearing boy had continuously pressed questions at him concerning his stay in the hospital. Spot didn't blame him, for he was about to tell Blink to lay off as well, but it was never in the younger Conlon's nature to lash out at anyone as he had done.
'Maybe he's just trying to readjust,' Spot thought to himself. After all, Runner was a lighthearted spirit, one to never survive when confined to a single area. 'His parents keep 'im locked up alls the time, I'm surprised the kid hasn't run away again!' Spot had meant to ask his cousin what the problem was, but just as quickly as he had finished his sandwich the younger Conlon had disappeared out the diner without saying a word to anyone.
Concluding that Runner was simply in one of his 'moods', Spot continued strolling down the walks, once stopping before crossing a street to allow a horse-carriage passage before proceeding on. 'One day I'll have a carriage of me own,' he vowed to himself. 'And people will know me no matter where I'se goes.' The soles of his boots were wearing out and soon, he'd have to be in the market for a new pair. But until he had the means by which to purchase it, he'd have to force his tired feet through the painful miles of walking he took up every day. He cast one last glance at the carriage, and turned around a corner to head towards Downtown.
The number of crowds here were sparse; not quite radiating off the feeling of a ghost town but nearing it with incredible accuracy. Spot nodded at one of his boys selling papers in a far-off corner but never slackened in the speed of his stride. He returned his focus to the sights before him, his gaze affixed on a small edifice snuggled in between sky- scraping apartment buildings that made it pale in quality...but only in outward appearance.
Spot grinned as he neared the structure. Josephine's Place. He hadn't tasted a well-made breakfast in weeks! Back at the hospital, Angel would bring him bagels and such when on break, but there was nothing like a meal cooked with love and the elderly Josephine always conducted her humble business as so.
The Brooklyn leader swiped his hat off and allowed a passing breeze to comb through his sandy locks while he sighed in thought about how anxious he was to leave the Brooklyn lodging house. Not to say he didn't enjoy being leader, but sometimes the task was much too laborious, its trials far outweighing any pleasure he enjoyed from dictating people. He was ready for a change...was even old enough for one. Brooklyn's last leader had renounced his rank at age nineteen; Spot was months away from reaching that opportunity.
He fixed his cap back on and glanced at his reflection in a bookstore's window while passing to make sure it looked fine. While his eyes examined his appearance, though, they happened to look past the reflection into the store itself where he saw a near-empty room filled with rows upon rows of books. Yet it wasn't the vast selection of written works that had caught his attention. He scolded himself beforehand for wanting to accomplish what he was about to do, and groaned aloud before opening the door to the shop and letting himself in.
The place smelled of faded pages from an ancient volume and Spot crinkled his noise, unfamiliar to the scent. He greeted the young woman at the front desk and then traveled down an aisle of books in search of the person he had seen. When he reached the aisle's end, he cursed under his breath and turned around to try again, nearly jumping in surprise when he found himself eye-to-eye with the one he had been seeking.
"What are youse doin' heah?" Snap asked bluntly, her eyes glimmering with newfound hatred for the Brooklyn leader.
"What's it tah youse?" he threw back at her. "It's a free country, aint it? I can go wherever I please. And you shoah as hell aint gunna be one tah question it either."
"Oh don't get me wrong. I wouldn't question it...cause I'se don't give a crap." She turned swiftly away from him, her silky hair gliding across her shoulders as she did so, and left to a section of books towards the back of the store.
Spot glared after her. His pride wanted so very much to leave her right then and simply forget about the girl, but he inwardly knew it wouldn't be right. He knew it was partly his fault that all which had passed between him and Snap had crumbled down so violently. And if nothing was ever worked out, a resolution would never be reached. He clenched his fists to relieve stress and then relaxed his hands, trying to gain composure. A few seconds later, he followed after her.
Snap was in the middle of reading a sonnet when she heard someone approaching her from behind. At first she had thought it the store clerk wanting to ask her if she was finding everything all right. She rolled her eyes and shifted her weight, thinking of a sharp reply to the inquiry. More probable was it that the clerk was merely apprehensive about a street-rat being in the store, on the verge of stealing an item.
"Ya know," she said, her attention driven still to the book. "If I really wanted tah rob ya guys off, I woulda tied youse all up, hold a gun tah ya heads and threaten tah blow ya brains out if ya even breathed. Then I'se woulda taken whatever books suited me." Grinning at the bold statement, she turned around to see the woman's reaction, but her smile only dropped when she instead saw Spot before her.
"Are ya stalkin' me?" she asked, slamming the book shut and shoving it back onto the shelf from which she had taken it.
Spot leaned against the bookshelf and smirked. "Sorry tah disappoint ya, but I'se aint in the business of stalkin' people."
"Disappointed?" She laughed sarcastically. "Sweety, I think the only thing disappointed is ya manhood." Her laugh grew authentic when his expression became displeased. Sometimes, she believed it too easy to blow his ego. She disregarded his presence and scanned the titles of the books in front of her, hunting for a good read.
"So d'ya get that a lot?"
She looked at him. "What?"
"The scabs heah thinkin' youse is wanting tah steal off them?" He fixed his eyes back on her and watched how her feelings drastically changed. Just a moment earlier, she had stood proud and defiant, back straight and head held tall. But now her shoulders sagged the slightest degree and her eyes became distant. She faced him, then, and offered a sad smile.
"Too often, people woik so hard concentratin' on ya appearance that they's forget ya a person inside just like them." No longer seeing a challenge in him, she let her guard down halfway and loosened up. "But I'se guessin' it's our fault really. Some newsies swindle money outta their customers, some don't. It's the ones that do, though, that give us a bad name. And we'se just have tah learn how tah live wid that."
Spot nodded slowly. "Yea, but if youse don't ever try tah change things, then what's the point?" They stood there looking at each other, forgetting the surroundings around them, each asking themselves why their conversations had always been meaningless ones full of bitter rivalry when they were quite capable of discussing issues such as this.
Snap was the first to break away from the stare, taken aback that she had given Spot a glimpse into her beliefs. Wasn't he a specimen of those who earned the 'bad names'? Why was he suddenly so concerned? She turned back to the books she had means to read and tried to rekindle her disgust for the Brooklyn leader. "Then again," she said, "why am I takin' lessons from youse? Ya just represent the lower-class bastard who treats goils like they's nothin'."
Spot was shocked by the outburst but didn't show it in his calm facade. More than anything, he tried to control his urge to yell back at her. "Listen, I'se didn't come heah tah argue wid youse..."
"Then leave!"
"I'll leave when it pleases me, and not a damn minute sooner!" He stepped forward violently, but she was prepared for his offenses and slapped him hard before he could come closer. His eyes were blazing with fury now, but they couldn't penetrate her stone-cold look.
"Get it through ya thick skull, Conlon. I aint gunna let youse push me 'round no more. The only reason I'm in Brooklyn tahday is 'cause I've been comin' tah this bookstore since I was little. As soon as I get what I'se came for, I'll be gone. Okay?" Tired of looking upon him, she faced a new shelf of books and tried to occupy her mind with sorting out their titles.
"Ya aint even got a reason tah boss me like ya do ya newsies. I'se aint screwin' youse or ya ass of a friend no more, so lay off it, huh? The only reason I'se did it in the foist place was tah help out me family back home. It was a bet, ya high-and-mighty. But ya probably already familiar wid things like that, right?" She gave him a harsh glare. "So I'd appreciate it if ya stop thinkin' youse is so above everyone else, 'cause ya not."
Spot despised the way she had gone about so meticulously laying his pride and honor on the altar to slice up and destroy with her bitterness. He would've spit on the ground and walked out curtly just to enrage her, but something dawned on him then. Something she had said during her rant perked his interest. 'The only reason I'se did it in the foist place was tah help out me family back home...' What had she meant by that?
"Are youse tryin' tah get me tah apologize wid ya lil' guilt-trip story?"
"Gimme a break, huh?" She pushed past him to see the collection of books that lay beyond. "Why would I'se care whether ya forgave me or not?"
He followed behind her a yard or so, casually running his hand over the bindings of a volume he found, a collection of poems. He tipped the book back and let it fall into his hands, opening it and flipping through the pages of fine script. "So it's true?"
"It's none of ya business."
"So? I still wanna know. Ya wouldn't have brought it up if youse didn't want me asking 'bout it. So now I am. Is it true? Was ya family in trouble or somethin'?" As he waited for her reply, he breezed through a sonnet he had once learned about at St. John's when he had been a student at the private school. The words brought back old memories and he almost smiled.
Snap watched this action and figured sharing the details of the event with him probably wouldn't do as much harm as she feared. Maybe it'd even alleviate matters between them. "Me father's aint exactly what someone would call a righteous man," she started, resting her back onto a wall once she had reached the end of the aisle. "Since I'se was five, he'd come home drunk like a damned fool and beat on me muddah and me like we'se was doity whores there for his pleasure. When me muddah left, I became the woman of the house...and tah him that meant more than just cooking 'is meals and cleanin' after 'im.
"I did it only 'cause he said he'd go after me sistahs if I wasn't a 'good goil'. I hated very minute of it, hated him more and more by the day. It wasn't long 'fore he was sellin' me off tah his friends when our income wasn't rollin' in smoothly. Whenever a drug deal went wrong wid one of 'is customers, he'd just close the agreement offerin' me as payment. I ran away eventually, became one of A.J.'s newsies." She paused for a moment and thought upon how kind the Staten Island leader had been when welcoming her into his borough. A bit of a rough-edged personality, but deep inside he hid a warm heart and she had embraced his gentleness many times.
"Anyways, me sistahs was still livin' in that shack of a home and I knew it'd be up tah me tah save 'em. But I'se didn't have no money tah send 'em tah a nice place, and I definitely didn't want them becomin' newsgoils. So I took up a bet from A.J. and once the pool of money was at a reasonable price, I came tah Manhattan tah do me job. Get youse and Jack tah fall for me, and then ruin ya friendship wid 'im. When I'se was done, I collected me money and was able tah send me sistahs tah St. John's monastery in Morningside Heights."
Spot only nodded his head again, trying to digest all the information she had spilt in a mere five minutes. He hadn't expected her to relate such a tale to him, hadn't expected her to be one of the few in New York who ruined their lives just to save a loved one. But when she had done just that, he saw her in a new light then. He saw her as the unselfish person he had always wanted to be.
Snap saw his thought process and crossed her arms. "So how's it feel tah be on the other side of the bet?"
"Kinda weird," he answered with a shrug. "But that's how life woiks sometimes, right?"
She smiled at him, and for the first time during the weeks she had known him, it was a genuine expression she didn't have to feign. What brightened the moment even better was when he smiled back at her in the same way.
~*~*~*~*~
Charles Hutton blew one of his mangy curls out his eyes and tried to obtain a better grip on Jumper's foreleg so that he could pry a miniature stone from the racing horse's iron shoe. "Ye blasted beast, stand still!" He repositioned himself onto his knees and rested Jumper's hoof onto his thigh. "Alright, lad. We almost got ya problem 'ere." Just as the end of the pick he was using touched the stone in question, the horse neighed nervously and leapt backwards, knocking Charles upside down.
"Ye bloody fool! Don't ye know I was only tryin' to help youse?" The boy snatched the pick off the hay-covered ground and tossed it into a nearby pail. "When Mr. Webster asks me why there's still a rock in ya shoe, don't expect me to cover for ye, ya hear me?"
"Charles?" a voice laughed from behind him. "Who are you talking to?"
The boy spun around and smiled at the sight of Becca hand in hand with her newsboy friend Racetrack. He greeted her with a hug, for since Valentine's Day they had grown as closer friends, and shook hands with Race. "Well, I'll leave ya two alone," he grinned, giving Becca a knowing look.
Becca shook her head and laughed again, thinking upon how much she had missed when she hadn't first accepted Charles' sense of humor. But he had proven a loyal companion, and she was thankful he had been patient with her. She plopped down onto a stack of hay tied up with white rope and looking up to Race, patted the empty area next to her.
He took her up on the offer and joined her on the makeshift seat. "So where do we'se go from heah?" he whispered to her as he took her hand into his own and traced the velvety nature of her skin. The night she had come to him sobbing, Becca had stayed over at the lodging house until Race had walked her to her own apartment the next morning. Following the event, Webster gave her a few days off from work...affording her ample time to revaluate herself and grow stronger emotionally.
"I'm not sure," she answered him in that southern twang he adored. "But I'm reckoning that whatever it is, we should take it slow, ya know?"
"Yea, you're right." He stroked her carrot-colored tresses and smiled at her warmly. "When are ya gunna start woikin' heah again?"
She pursed her lips in thought and mused over that. She wasn't sure whether she really did want to return to Sheepshead at all! It brought with it too many memories; too many reveries she refused to relive. She wanted a life that was a breath of fresh air every day. She wanted to be free and open with the ones closest to her, not boxed up and guarded.
"Not any time soon...I just don't feel ready." She looked to him for his response and when he nodded, she couldn't help but grin. Race had been such a comfort to her from the time she had first met him. He always seemed to be there for her no matter what, sacrificing whatever was required to win her affection. And won it he had! She would fail miserably if ever she tried to suppress her feelings for him. Every single thing about him drove her crazy.
The way his chocolate brown eyes made her melt when he gazed at her with a dreamy look. The way his smile was one that conveyed both fondness and mischief. The way he held her tight while she sat on his lap and whispered the loveliest of things into her ear under a star-filled sky. She couldn't imagine what life without him would entail! It was Race who had helped her confront and conquer her past. Where would she be without him?
"You know, Race," she said softly, too shy to meet his eyes. "I've never felt like this before...the way I feel about you. I've never met someone who...who made me, like..."
Race cut her off short when he turned her face towards him and gently pressed his lips against her own, deepening the kiss while he brought her closer to him. He felt her uneasiness, but chased it away by continuing to be gentle in his advances, softly rubbing her arms as he leaned her back. "I feel the same way," he answered with a sparkle in his eyes. "I've known alotta goils in me life, Becca, but the minute I saw youse..." He didn't finish, for he didn't want to ruin the confession with inadequate words.
Instead, he brought his face down and kissed her again, small pecks until she parted her lips and let him venture forth into her mouth. Getting a rush from the opportunity, he propped himself up on his elbows and gazed down at her lovingly. "I'se don't want it tah be like this," he said simply.
A bit disappointed but understanding the reasons why, Becca took the hand he offered and sat back up next to him, finding comfort in the hug he gave her. "Then when?" she whispered into his ear, before kissing his hair and resting her head onto his shoulder.
Race thought for a moment and then interlocked his fingers with hers. "When we'se shoah we'se love each other." With tears in her eyes, she threw her arms around his neck and embraced him.
~*~*~*~*~
Review! ^_^
