Author's Note:
This is my new and improved version of my first fanfic, Jolene. I expanded
the whole story and there's a lot more dialogue and explanations. Hope you
enjoy it! Please Read and Reply! Raye
(1897)
A small crowd of Brooklyn newsies gathered around two boys and watched them fight, cheering one on, and then the other. The smaller of the two boys was quicker and surprisingly stronger than his opponent. "Take it back, Russ!" the boy shouted as he shoved the taller, stockier boy. The other boy, Russ, returned the gesture, and sent the smaller boy to the ground.
"You know I cain't, Dot." Russ said smugly, "Cause it's true. Ain't it boys?" The three boys who stood behind Russ shouted their agreement and Russ turned back to the smaller boy. "See?" his voice was smug and betrayed his too-high opinion of himself.
"Its Spot!" the boy jumped up and slammed himself into Russ. They reeled into the side of a building, and Russ was pinned against the wall by Spot.
"You get this straight y' moron!" Spot growled, "Trey ain't a sissy and he ain't gonna leave Brooklyn to da likes of you. If he leaves it to anybody he's gonna leave it to me 'cause he knows what a stinkin', lousy cheat you really are!"
"You so sure 'bout dat Conlon?" Russ challenged, trying to reassure himself of his superiority.
"Oh yeah I am." Spot replied, "An' don't you forget it."
"Oh I won't. I'll just forget to remember!" Russ started to go for Spot again, but was held back.
"Lemme go!" he shouted furiously. Then he looked up.
"Shut up and cut it out, Russ." Trey said in a "don't mess with me or else" voice. "What's dis about?"
"Shoulda heard 'im." Spot told Trey. "But he can tell y' what he said."
Trey looked at Russ, prompting him to tell. But Russ shook his head and crossed his arms over his thick, barrel-chested frame. "Kick it, guys!" Trey said to the others, "Git outta here!" Turning to Russ, he said, "Includes you, Russ." Russ and his boys stalked off. At 16, Russ was about as immature as they came, but most newsies were scared of him because of his size. Not Conlon though. Spot was a thorn in Russ's side, and Russ didn't mind telling people about it either.
As soon as Russ and his friends were gone, Trey turned to Spot. At 18, he was taller than most of his boys and had a very commanding presence. And even though he was tough when he needed to be, he was well-loved and respected by all the Brooklyn newsies- especially Spot. "Russ causin' trouble?" he asked.
"Yeah. Did a good job of it." Spot replied. He was 15, and though he was small, he was quick and strong. He brushed his fingers along his jaw-line gingerly and winced. "Got me good that time."
"Yeah. Hey Spot, we need to talk about Brooklyn."
"What?"
"I'm leavin'. Got a job in Queens at a factory. Trouble is, it means leavin' Brooklyn."
"Guess it does."
"I'm leavin' tomorrow, and I'm leavin' you in charge."
"Me?"
"Yeah. Ya got guts, kid, an' anybody can see dat. So youse in charge." Trey paused and took something from his pocket. Spot recognized it as the bronze key that Trey always wore. "Here. It's yours now." Spot took the key and slipped it's chain around his neck. It made it all real and he quickly took it off.
"I cain't do dis, Trey. I ain't ready."
"Shut up an' put it on. Yeah you're ready. If ya weren't you'd be scared-a Russ an' I know you ain't scared-a him."
Spot slipped the chain back on and the two walked in silence back to the lodging house. Everyone was there when the arrived- including Russ. So, Trey told them what was going on.
"Youse cain't leave!" one of the newsies piped up, "Who's gonna be in charge?" Trey found Russ in the group and looked at him pointedly.
"Spot's da leader." he said, "Respect him as you would me. Follow his lead wid no questions. Ya step outta line and I guarantee dat you'll suffer for it. Any questions?" Not one person in the room spoke, so Trey told them all to get back to what they'd been doing. Then he took Spot aside. "Be careful-a Russ an' his friends." he said, "Dey want nothin' better than ta get youse out. Pick a lieutenant and some backups. Make sure dat they's guys you can trust. Got it?"
"Yeah I got it." Spot replied, "Ya leavin' now?"
"Yeah. Gotta say g'bye to some other people from Manhattan an' East Side. I'm gonna stay da night wid some ol' friends an' go get my apartment tomorrow. It's in Harlem, but I cain't exactly come ta visit. It'd hurt ya rep. You come visit me sometime."
"Sure." Spot nodded. He spit into his right hand and extended it to Trey. They shook and Trey left. Spot went up to the boy's room and moved his stuff into Trey's old room. It was the leader's room, and it was now Spot's. It seemed unreal that Trey was gone, but Spot knew it was when he felt the bronze key around his neck. He tried to get some sleep that night, but it didn't come easily and Spot laid awake long after everyone else was asleep.
Meanwhile, Russ and his friends had left the lodging house. At a local, "late-night" diner, they talked about what had just happened. "Conlon shouldn't be da leader." Russ said as he slammed his empty glass down on the table. "He ain't got da guts."
"Russ we can't do nothin' about it," one of the boys replied, "Conlon's got most of da districts on his side."
"Not if I can help it." Russ said, "Come on. We're goin' to da Bronx."
"What for?"
"We gotta get ourselves a district. Then we'll show Conlon who's boss."
(1897)
A small crowd of Brooklyn newsies gathered around two boys and watched them fight, cheering one on, and then the other. The smaller of the two boys was quicker and surprisingly stronger than his opponent. "Take it back, Russ!" the boy shouted as he shoved the taller, stockier boy. The other boy, Russ, returned the gesture, and sent the smaller boy to the ground.
"You know I cain't, Dot." Russ said smugly, "Cause it's true. Ain't it boys?" The three boys who stood behind Russ shouted their agreement and Russ turned back to the smaller boy. "See?" his voice was smug and betrayed his too-high opinion of himself.
"Its Spot!" the boy jumped up and slammed himself into Russ. They reeled into the side of a building, and Russ was pinned against the wall by Spot.
"You get this straight y' moron!" Spot growled, "Trey ain't a sissy and he ain't gonna leave Brooklyn to da likes of you. If he leaves it to anybody he's gonna leave it to me 'cause he knows what a stinkin', lousy cheat you really are!"
"You so sure 'bout dat Conlon?" Russ challenged, trying to reassure himself of his superiority.
"Oh yeah I am." Spot replied, "An' don't you forget it."
"Oh I won't. I'll just forget to remember!" Russ started to go for Spot again, but was held back.
"Lemme go!" he shouted furiously. Then he looked up.
"Shut up and cut it out, Russ." Trey said in a "don't mess with me or else" voice. "What's dis about?"
"Shoulda heard 'im." Spot told Trey. "But he can tell y' what he said."
Trey looked at Russ, prompting him to tell. But Russ shook his head and crossed his arms over his thick, barrel-chested frame. "Kick it, guys!" Trey said to the others, "Git outta here!" Turning to Russ, he said, "Includes you, Russ." Russ and his boys stalked off. At 16, Russ was about as immature as they came, but most newsies were scared of him because of his size. Not Conlon though. Spot was a thorn in Russ's side, and Russ didn't mind telling people about it either.
As soon as Russ and his friends were gone, Trey turned to Spot. At 18, he was taller than most of his boys and had a very commanding presence. And even though he was tough when he needed to be, he was well-loved and respected by all the Brooklyn newsies- especially Spot. "Russ causin' trouble?" he asked.
"Yeah. Did a good job of it." Spot replied. He was 15, and though he was small, he was quick and strong. He brushed his fingers along his jaw-line gingerly and winced. "Got me good that time."
"Yeah. Hey Spot, we need to talk about Brooklyn."
"What?"
"I'm leavin'. Got a job in Queens at a factory. Trouble is, it means leavin' Brooklyn."
"Guess it does."
"I'm leavin' tomorrow, and I'm leavin' you in charge."
"Me?"
"Yeah. Ya got guts, kid, an' anybody can see dat. So youse in charge." Trey paused and took something from his pocket. Spot recognized it as the bronze key that Trey always wore. "Here. It's yours now." Spot took the key and slipped it's chain around his neck. It made it all real and he quickly took it off.
"I cain't do dis, Trey. I ain't ready."
"Shut up an' put it on. Yeah you're ready. If ya weren't you'd be scared-a Russ an' I know you ain't scared-a him."
Spot slipped the chain back on and the two walked in silence back to the lodging house. Everyone was there when the arrived- including Russ. So, Trey told them what was going on.
"Youse cain't leave!" one of the newsies piped up, "Who's gonna be in charge?" Trey found Russ in the group and looked at him pointedly.
"Spot's da leader." he said, "Respect him as you would me. Follow his lead wid no questions. Ya step outta line and I guarantee dat you'll suffer for it. Any questions?" Not one person in the room spoke, so Trey told them all to get back to what they'd been doing. Then he took Spot aside. "Be careful-a Russ an' his friends." he said, "Dey want nothin' better than ta get youse out. Pick a lieutenant and some backups. Make sure dat they's guys you can trust. Got it?"
"Yeah I got it." Spot replied, "Ya leavin' now?"
"Yeah. Gotta say g'bye to some other people from Manhattan an' East Side. I'm gonna stay da night wid some ol' friends an' go get my apartment tomorrow. It's in Harlem, but I cain't exactly come ta visit. It'd hurt ya rep. You come visit me sometime."
"Sure." Spot nodded. He spit into his right hand and extended it to Trey. They shook and Trey left. Spot went up to the boy's room and moved his stuff into Trey's old room. It was the leader's room, and it was now Spot's. It seemed unreal that Trey was gone, but Spot knew it was when he felt the bronze key around his neck. He tried to get some sleep that night, but it didn't come easily and Spot laid awake long after everyone else was asleep.
Meanwhile, Russ and his friends had left the lodging house. At a local, "late-night" diner, they talked about what had just happened. "Conlon shouldn't be da leader." Russ said as he slammed his empty glass down on the table. "He ain't got da guts."
"Russ we can't do nothin' about it," one of the boys replied, "Conlon's got most of da districts on his side."
"Not if I can help it." Russ said, "Come on. We're goin' to da Bronx."
"What for?"
"We gotta get ourselves a district. Then we'll show Conlon who's boss."
