Spot approached the Manhattan Newsboy's Lodging House with dread in his heart. Dis ain't gonna woik, Conlon. Whadda ya doin'?
-----
Jack Kelly climbed out of his bunk and fell to the floor. He lay there for a full five minutes before attempting to stand again. Groaning, he picked himself up amid the chuckling of his fellow newsboys. "Ha, ha . . . fery vunny . . . yuck it up ya bums . . . " He stumbled into the bathroom and took a spot in front of a mirror. Lifting his head ever so slowly, he peered into the mirror with blurred vision. He blinked in an attempt to clear it.
"How'd ya sleep, Jack?" Skittery joked as he walked by, a towel over his bare shoulder. Bumlets followed, clapping the leader on the back heartily. And just to top it all off, Jake insisted on walking by an giving Jack his infamous 'Jake face' in the mirror.
"Some party, huh, guys?" he heard drift over the din of the washroom. Someone had begun to hum, as well. It quickly turned to a blaring ruckus to Jack's ears. He winced and gazed into the mirror. Don't look as bad as I could. He noted, somewhat relieved. His bloodshot eyes wandered the sinks for a bar of soap. Upon failing in his quest, he gave up and splashed his oily face with freezing cold water. "Ah!" He gasped in a high-pitched voice. This drew another laugh from the crowd of newsies and another scowl from their leader.
-----
Spot fingered his slingshot with one hand and opened the font door to the Lodging House with the other.
A boy with an eyepatch walked by at that moment. "Heya Spot!"
Spot nodded in acknowledgement. "Blink."
The smiling newsie slid past him and leapt down the stairs outside.
Spot hesitated, then turned. "'Ey Blink."
Kid Blink turned and put a hand on his hip. "Yeah Spot?"
He froze, trying to think of how to ask his question. Dis is ridiculous! Spot Conlon freezin' ovah a goil? Banishing the thought, he put on his usual smirk. "You evah hoid of a goil named Angel?"
Blink lifted his other hand to rest on his other hip. "Why, she like me?" He grinned.
Spot felt like banging his head against a wall. "Jus' answer me." He demanded a bit impatiently.
Blink shrugged. "I dunno. Ask Cowboy. I think he'd know bettah den me, if ya know what I mean." He wiggled his eyebrows at the Brooklyn leader.
Spot remained stonefaced, but nodded. "Right." Turning, he entered the House and took the stairs two at a time up to the bunkroom.
"Heya Spot!" Called a young African-American boy.
"Heya Boots." He attempted a smile. "Wheah's ya feahless leadah?"
Boots jerked a thumb in the direction of the bathroom, then returned to putting his shoes on.
Spot sighed heavily, then made his way over to the doorway to the washroom.
He spied Jack in front of a mirror and walked over calmly. "'Eya Jacky-boy."
Jack looked up from the sink and grimaced. "Spot." He turned away and busied himself with finding a hairbrush.
"Don't be an ass, Jack. I'se heah ta say why I left las' nite, an' ta ast ya somethin'."
Interested in what he had to say, he looked back up, brush in hand. "Shoot."
Conlon took a deep breath. "Ya hoid of a goil cawled Angel?"
Jack smiled blearily. "Why, she like me?"
What is dis, ego central? He shook his head, exasperated. "No, you moron. Jus' answer me question." His voice was on the verge of pleading.
Jack thought for a second as he ran the brush through his greasy brown hair. "Hmm . . . what's she look like?"
He thought for a second. "Uh . . . I dunno."
Jack pulled a 180° and looked Spot in the eye. "You don't know?" He asked, amazed.
"Look, Cowboy, eithah ya know or ya don't, ahrite? Alls I know is she's got dark hair an'—"
Someone called out behind him, interrupting his speech: "I know huh!"
Spot whirled on the interrupter. "Mush? How da you know huh?"
"She's me goil's best friend." He explained simply, pulling a shirt on.
Oh, dat was easy enough. "Wheah can I find huh?" He asked, nearly leaping on the curly-haired newsie.
"Woah dere, Romeo." He laughed.
Spot glowered at him and reached for his cane.
Mush immediately stopped laughing and dropped his grin. "27 Pebble Brook Road, Newsgoil's House, fifth room on ya left, second floah."
It was Spot's turn to smile. "Thanks boys." He tipped his hat and left.
-----
Angel stood before the full-length mirror and adjusted her hat. She turned it backwards and frowned. No. Definitely not. She admitted. I'se jus' not a backwards hat kinda poisen. She sighed and turned her hat back around, flicking the bill with her index finger.
"Angel?" A blond girl peered around the doorway at her best friend. "Ya done or do I gotta wait anuddah hoah for ya?" She smiled.
Angel stuck her tongue out and walked to the door, grabbing her last cigarette on her way.
-----
Jack glanced up from tying his shoes. "Hey! He nevah tole' me why he left!"
-----
Spot found his pace quickening as he neared the given address. His eyes darted from address to address, searching frantically for the right one. A ways down the street he saw two girls walking languidly down the sidewalk. One had dark hair, and the other was a blonde. Is it? he thought, becoming excited. He squinted hard and saw that indeed, it was.
-----
"Do it again an' I'll push ya inta some really old, ugly, fat guy!"
"You do an' I'll tell 'im you want his body!"
The girls shrieked in unison at the thought. Angel was grinning so hard her face was beginning to hurt. She looked up from the ground just in time to have her gaze fall upon a light-haired young man who was stopped a few yards in front of them. She froze.
Nails, the blonde, ran into Angel's back with an "Oof!" She stopped and looked at her friend. "What da heck didja stop fa?" She asked, still smiling. She followed her friend's gaze to some boy who was standing on front of them. "What, him?"
Angel nodded Nails. "Go on ahead. I got somethin' ta take care 'a."
Nails looked at her friend, then the boy, then her friend again. She shot her friend a quizzical look, but complied. "Okay, if you say so . . . " She continued toward the distribution center, and upon passing the boy, noted he took notice of her. Odd . . .
-----
Spot removed his hat and ran hand through his too-long hair. "Angel?" He called.
"Spot." She replied, much softer than he remembered her speaking. "Gotta light?"
He smiled. "What's it to ya?" He asked, the hostility gone from his voice.
She smiled back.
"Are ya headed to da Centah?" He stepped closer.
She walked up slowly, nodding.
"Can I escortcha?"
She nodded again. "If ya really want."
"Well, ya know, jus' doin' me friend a favah."
"Oh, really?"
"No." He shook his head.
"Well den," she grinned. "We can't disappoint dat friend, now can we?"
"Bettah not. Dey's got a tempah. You know how it is."
"Oh, yeah."
"Your eyes are nice."
She cocked an eyebrow.
"I jus' nevah noticed, dat's awl."
She nodded. "Oh."
The two paused. "Shall we?"
He bowed a bit. "Aftah you, miss."
She took a few steps ahead, then turned to look over her shoulder. "Ya comin'?"
He smiled and caught up. "Don't worry, I'se right heah."
"I don't worry." She smiled in return.
The two looked at each other for a minute more, then started on the trek that began their day.