Spot woke as the sun began to creep into the bunkroom. Unable to fall back
into a peaceful sleep, he rose quietly. As he grabbed his slingshot and
cigarettes from the table beside the bunk, Striker shifted on the top bunk,
murmuring something incoherent. Spot smirked slightly as he started for the
door. One could only deduce from his lude comments that Striker's dream
involved his girl of the week.
Ingrid awoke to a splash of water on her leg. She opened her eyes to see Gunnar standing on the edge of the dock, tossing pebbles into the river.
"What are you doing?" she asked in a groggy voice, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
He smiled brightly at her. "Scaring the fish."
Ingrid couldn't help returning his smile as she settled back against the pillar. "Well sit down. I am too tired to fish you out of the river."
As soon as he stepped out into the sunlight, Spot was consumed by a blanket of humidity. He groaned. "It's gonna be an unbearable day."
Seeking solace from the heat, he walked aimlessly toward the river. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw a young boy sitting on the end of the dock. A broad smile crossed Spot's lips as he scanned the dock, his eyes landing on the boy's companion.
With a slight spring in his step, he made his way down the dock. As he neared the pair, he could hear them talking in hushed voiced. It took him a moment to realize that they were not speaking English.
Ingrid jumped when she heard footsteps on the dock behind her. She spun around to see the boy from the previous morning standing a few feet behind them. Reaching for Gunnar's hand, she prepared to make a quick exit.
"Wait, please," he said calmly, extending a tentative hand. "I ain't gonna hurt ya."
She eyed him with speculation for a moment, but the soft look in his eyes mad her relax slightly.
Spot knelt down in front of Gunnar, who hid timidly behind Ingrid's dusty skirt. Reaching into his pocket, Spot produced the jack that he had found earlier. "I think that you lost this, kid."
Ingrid smiled, touched by the stranger's gesture. Gunnar started up at her, confusion evident on his face. She quickly translated and Gunnar grabbed the jack with enthusiasm.
Spot stood, taking the girl in with a confused look.
"He does not understand you," she explained, motioning toward the boy, who was playing with the returned jack a few feet away.
"Why's that?" Spot asked, digging into his pockets.
Ingrid smiled. "He does not understand English."
"I assumed as much," Spot said with a smile. "I meant-"
"I know what you meant," Ingrid shot back, enjoying the playful banter.
"Ingrid," Gunnar called. "I am hungry."
She nodded to him and turned back toward Spot, who was expectantly waiting for a translation.
"He's hungry," she said off handedly.
"German?" Spot asked, wagering a guess at the language.
"Norwegian," she corrected before gathering her things. "Now if you'll excuse us."
She took Gunnar's hand and led him up to the shore.
"Ingrid, is it?" Spot called, following them closely. When she nodded, he continued. "Lemme buy you breakfast."
She shot him a grin. "No thank you. We are just fine on our own."
"I'm sure ya are," Spot mumbled as she walked away.
Ingrid led Gunnar around the streets of Brooklyn, searching for an easy steal. Her hand was only inches from a loaf of bread when a voice made her freeze.
"I wouldn't do that if I was you."
She spun around to see the boy from the docks leaning against the brick building behind her. "And why is that?"
"Because the bulls are standin right over there." He smirked as her hand fell down at her side. "Willin to reconsider my offer?"
"Should you not be selling newspapers?" she asked, taking Gunnar's hand to keep him from darting down the street after a passing cart.
"I'm done."
Ingrid cringed as her stomach grumbled as if on cue.
"Is dat a yes?" he asked, trying his best to hold back a smile.
She groaned. "Fine."
Spot nodded triumphantly.
"Just one more thing," she spoke up as Spot directed them toward a small diner a few blocks down the street. "You know my name and I do not know yours."
He turned with a smile on his face. "I'm Caleb."
As soon as the words left his mouth, Spot's entire body went numb. Caleb? He hadn't been called that in years, let alone introduced himself that way. They reached the diner and he held the door open for them.
"What am I doin?" he mumbled to himself before following.
Ingrid awoke to a splash of water on her leg. She opened her eyes to see Gunnar standing on the edge of the dock, tossing pebbles into the river.
"What are you doing?" she asked in a groggy voice, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
He smiled brightly at her. "Scaring the fish."
Ingrid couldn't help returning his smile as she settled back against the pillar. "Well sit down. I am too tired to fish you out of the river."
As soon as he stepped out into the sunlight, Spot was consumed by a blanket of humidity. He groaned. "It's gonna be an unbearable day."
Seeking solace from the heat, he walked aimlessly toward the river. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw a young boy sitting on the end of the dock. A broad smile crossed Spot's lips as he scanned the dock, his eyes landing on the boy's companion.
With a slight spring in his step, he made his way down the dock. As he neared the pair, he could hear them talking in hushed voiced. It took him a moment to realize that they were not speaking English.
Ingrid jumped when she heard footsteps on the dock behind her. She spun around to see the boy from the previous morning standing a few feet behind them. Reaching for Gunnar's hand, she prepared to make a quick exit.
"Wait, please," he said calmly, extending a tentative hand. "I ain't gonna hurt ya."
She eyed him with speculation for a moment, but the soft look in his eyes mad her relax slightly.
Spot knelt down in front of Gunnar, who hid timidly behind Ingrid's dusty skirt. Reaching into his pocket, Spot produced the jack that he had found earlier. "I think that you lost this, kid."
Ingrid smiled, touched by the stranger's gesture. Gunnar started up at her, confusion evident on his face. She quickly translated and Gunnar grabbed the jack with enthusiasm.
Spot stood, taking the girl in with a confused look.
"He does not understand you," she explained, motioning toward the boy, who was playing with the returned jack a few feet away.
"Why's that?" Spot asked, digging into his pockets.
Ingrid smiled. "He does not understand English."
"I assumed as much," Spot said with a smile. "I meant-"
"I know what you meant," Ingrid shot back, enjoying the playful banter.
"Ingrid," Gunnar called. "I am hungry."
She nodded to him and turned back toward Spot, who was expectantly waiting for a translation.
"He's hungry," she said off handedly.
"German?" Spot asked, wagering a guess at the language.
"Norwegian," she corrected before gathering her things. "Now if you'll excuse us."
She took Gunnar's hand and led him up to the shore.
"Ingrid, is it?" Spot called, following them closely. When she nodded, he continued. "Lemme buy you breakfast."
She shot him a grin. "No thank you. We are just fine on our own."
"I'm sure ya are," Spot mumbled as she walked away.
Ingrid led Gunnar around the streets of Brooklyn, searching for an easy steal. Her hand was only inches from a loaf of bread when a voice made her freeze.
"I wouldn't do that if I was you."
She spun around to see the boy from the docks leaning against the brick building behind her. "And why is that?"
"Because the bulls are standin right over there." He smirked as her hand fell down at her side. "Willin to reconsider my offer?"
"Should you not be selling newspapers?" she asked, taking Gunnar's hand to keep him from darting down the street after a passing cart.
"I'm done."
Ingrid cringed as her stomach grumbled as if on cue.
"Is dat a yes?" he asked, trying his best to hold back a smile.
She groaned. "Fine."
Spot nodded triumphantly.
"Just one more thing," she spoke up as Spot directed them toward a small diner a few blocks down the street. "You know my name and I do not know yours."
He turned with a smile on his face. "I'm Caleb."
As soon as the words left his mouth, Spot's entire body went numb. Caleb? He hadn't been called that in years, let alone introduced himself that way. They reached the diner and he held the door open for them.
"What am I doin?" he mumbled to himself before following.