Spot watched Ingrid's hand shake as she reached out to pull Gunnar closer
to her. It was only then that he noticed that her skin was hauntingly pale,
a slight bluish tint lining her lips. Just looking at her sent a chill down
his spine.
"Let me buy you lunch," he offered, trying to find an excuse to get her into a warm building.
The smart thing to do was decline his offer. Ingrid knew that, but the temptation of a hot meal and shelter from the cold was irresistible. She reluctantly agreed and followed the boys to the same dinner they had eaten in that summer.
"Are ya plannin on sleepin in da streets all winter?" Spot asked bluntly after they took a seat near the burning stove.
Ingrid fought to keep her jaw from dropping. She was about to respond when she saw Gunnar staring at her expectantly. She grabbed Spot by the arm and pulled him away from the table.
"Not that it is any of your business," she responded in a low voice, "but we have no alternative."
"My offer still stands," he said softly, unconsciously resting a hand on her forearm. "Come live at da lodging house. It ain't much, but you'd at least have a roof over ya head."
Her features hardened and she started to walk away. "I already told you that we do not need your pity."
"Wait, please." He tightened his grip on her arm enough to pull her gently back to him. "This ain't pity, its experience. I've spent a winter on these streets, an' I'll tell ya what, you two ain't got what it takes to survive. Don't let your pride send you to your grave."
With a glare, she pulled herself free from his grasp and stormed out of the dinner, pulling Gunnar along behind her. Spot hung his head as he heard the door slam behind them.
"That went well," he murmured to himself before he headed back out onto the street.
Ingrid's stomach grumbled as she tried to find a comfortable position on the cold metal bench. Since running out of the dinner that morning, she had only managed to steal one biscuit, which she immediately gave to Gunnar. Between her hunger and the discomfort of the cold, it was clear that sleep was impossible.
Caleb's last words kept running through her mind. Was it really her pride keeping them in the cold? She watched Gunnar shift beside her, pulling the cloak tighter around his shoulders. Watching him slip back into sleep, she sighed. Surely Gunnar understood the weight of the situation at hand, yet he never complained.
Suddenly a pang of guilt hit her. She owed him more than this; more than a life on the streets eating stolen food. Biting her lower lip, she reconsidered Caleb's offer. She decided that until they got back on their feet, it was the only alternative for survival.
Before she could change her mind, she lifted Gunnar onto her hip. She started blindly through the streets, unsure of exactly where she was headed. Somehow, her feet led her toward the docks where she had first met Caleb.
Just up the street, her eye caught on a sign hanging from the side of a worn building. Newsboys Lodging house. Taking a calming breath, she walked up and knocked on the door.
A small boy, seemingly only a few years older than Gunnar, pulled the door open. "Whatta ya want?"
Ingrid was taken aback by the harshness of his voice. "I... uh... I am looking for Caleb."
"Ain't nobody here named Caleb," the boy shot back, moving to slam the door.
Before the latch clicked, a large hand caught the door and pulled it open. Ingrid recognized the newly arrived newsie as Caleb's friend from outside the dinner. His well built frame towered over Ingrid, shaking her confidence slightly. His chocolaty brown eyes sparkled when he scanner her body.
"Munchkin, go get Spot."
The young newsie shot him a questioning glance. "Aw come on, Striker--"
"Do as you're told," Striker replied coolly, pushing him toward the stairs. He then turned back to Ingrid, who still stood on the cold stoop. "Well ya might as well come in."
She moved awkwardly into the room filled with Brooklyn newsboys. Shifting uncomfortably under the scrutiny of their eyes, Ingrid repositioned Gunnar on her hip.
"Spot?"
Groaning, Spot lifted his head off the pillow. "I thought I told ya boys ta leave me alone."
"Striker sent me," Munchkin said shyly, taking a tentative step into the room.
"its jist gonna have ta wait til tomorrow, Munchkin. I'm tryin ta—"
"There's a girl downstairs," Munchkin interrupted, cowering slightly as he waited for Spot's reaction.
Spot shot up in bed, hitting his head on Striker's bunk in the process. Rubbing his forehead, he bolted passed the young newsie and down the stairs. His eyes widened when he saw Ingrid standing in the middle of the room with Gunnar sleeping on her shoulder.
When he realized that the other boys were staring at him, he quickly masked his shock and hardened his features. "Boys, why don't ya clear out an let us talk."
The boys were too curious to move until Striker shooed them out. "You heard him, beat it."
Striker turned back to the pair, a triumphant smile on his face. Spot gave Striker a direct look. "You too, boyo."
Striker stared at his friend in shock. He had never been excluded from any of the events in Spot's life, and he resented the suggestion. Frustrated, he stalked out of the front door, slamming it behind him.
With the room now empty, Spot let a broad smile play across his lips. "You changed your mind?"
"I am here for Gunnar," she said coolly, fighting to keep her voice steady.
Spot saw the pain in her eyes as she stood before him. It was obvious that asking for help was not in her nature and the action was extremely difficult for her. "Fair enough. Common, I'll show ya to an empty bunk."
Ingrid began to climb the stairs behind him, but found it difficult to carry Gunnar and not trip on her skirt. Noticing that she had fallen behind, he retraced his steps and lifted Gunnar easily from her arms.
They came to the top of the stairs and entered a large room crammed full of bunk beds. A few stray newsies sat around smoking. They regarded Spot and Ingrid with curiosity before returning to their conversation.
"This is the bunkroom," Spot explained, setting Gunnar gently on an empty bed. "We's pretty fill up right now, so the two of you'll have to share a bunk for now."
"That is alright," she replied, hiding the excitement of having a bed to sleep on for the first time in months.
"Some of these boys have troubles stayin in one place, so another bunk's bound to open up soon. Come on, I'll give you the nickel tour." He led her around the small building, pointing out anything that he thought she might need to know. Eventually they ended up back in the bunkroom. "Why don't ya try to get some sleep? The boys'll be filin in soon, but I'll keep em quiet."
Spot sat on the edge of his bed, waiting for Striker to return. All of the other boys were sleeping soundly, but the leader in him refused to rest until he was sure Striker was safe. He ventured a glance at Ingrid, sleeping peacefully across the room. Watching her steady breathing, his nerves began to calm.
"Nice of ya to wait up fer me."
Spot jerked his head around to find Striker standing over him. He quickly stood, although Striker still had him by at least half a foot. "Where ya been boyo? You know better than to stay out without tellin me."
"I see we'se takin in strays now." Striker indicated to the pair sleeping peacefully. "That's nice of ya."
Spot felt his temper flare at the sarcasm dripping from Striker's comment.
"What's it to ya?" Spot shot back, louder than he intended. He lowered his voice and leaned closer. "Last I checked, I was the leader round here. It's my call. Ya got a problem with dat?"
Striker shook his head and lifted himself into bed. "This girl's got ya wrapped round her finger, huh buddy boy?"
Spot buried his head in his hands and dropped onto his bed. Trying to push the argument from his mind, he laid back and forced himself to sleep.
Ingrid was awakened by raised voices. Her heartbeat raced for a moment until she recognized her surroundings. She closed her eyes again, trying to fall back into a deep sleep, but it was too late. She was awake and restless.
Trying not to wake Gunnar, who was still sound asleep beside her, Ingrid slipped out from under the covers and moves to the window. When she discovered a fire escape leading to the roof, she quickly lifted the glass and climbed up.
Spot woke with a shiver. He glanced over at the window, surprised to find it open. Occasionally, the boys would sneak out for a late smoke, but they knew better than to leave the window open behind them. Letting his leader instincts take over, he quickly scanned the room to see if anything was out of place.
His heart raced when he noticed that Ingrid was no longer sleeping beside Gunnar. He crawled out of bed, grabbing his jacket before he slipped quietly out the window.
"Let me buy you lunch," he offered, trying to find an excuse to get her into a warm building.
The smart thing to do was decline his offer. Ingrid knew that, but the temptation of a hot meal and shelter from the cold was irresistible. She reluctantly agreed and followed the boys to the same dinner they had eaten in that summer.
"Are ya plannin on sleepin in da streets all winter?" Spot asked bluntly after they took a seat near the burning stove.
Ingrid fought to keep her jaw from dropping. She was about to respond when she saw Gunnar staring at her expectantly. She grabbed Spot by the arm and pulled him away from the table.
"Not that it is any of your business," she responded in a low voice, "but we have no alternative."
"My offer still stands," he said softly, unconsciously resting a hand on her forearm. "Come live at da lodging house. It ain't much, but you'd at least have a roof over ya head."
Her features hardened and she started to walk away. "I already told you that we do not need your pity."
"Wait, please." He tightened his grip on her arm enough to pull her gently back to him. "This ain't pity, its experience. I've spent a winter on these streets, an' I'll tell ya what, you two ain't got what it takes to survive. Don't let your pride send you to your grave."
With a glare, she pulled herself free from his grasp and stormed out of the dinner, pulling Gunnar along behind her. Spot hung his head as he heard the door slam behind them.
"That went well," he murmured to himself before he headed back out onto the street.
Ingrid's stomach grumbled as she tried to find a comfortable position on the cold metal bench. Since running out of the dinner that morning, she had only managed to steal one biscuit, which she immediately gave to Gunnar. Between her hunger and the discomfort of the cold, it was clear that sleep was impossible.
Caleb's last words kept running through her mind. Was it really her pride keeping them in the cold? She watched Gunnar shift beside her, pulling the cloak tighter around his shoulders. Watching him slip back into sleep, she sighed. Surely Gunnar understood the weight of the situation at hand, yet he never complained.
Suddenly a pang of guilt hit her. She owed him more than this; more than a life on the streets eating stolen food. Biting her lower lip, she reconsidered Caleb's offer. She decided that until they got back on their feet, it was the only alternative for survival.
Before she could change her mind, she lifted Gunnar onto her hip. She started blindly through the streets, unsure of exactly where she was headed. Somehow, her feet led her toward the docks where she had first met Caleb.
Just up the street, her eye caught on a sign hanging from the side of a worn building. Newsboys Lodging house. Taking a calming breath, she walked up and knocked on the door.
A small boy, seemingly only a few years older than Gunnar, pulled the door open. "Whatta ya want?"
Ingrid was taken aback by the harshness of his voice. "I... uh... I am looking for Caleb."
"Ain't nobody here named Caleb," the boy shot back, moving to slam the door.
Before the latch clicked, a large hand caught the door and pulled it open. Ingrid recognized the newly arrived newsie as Caleb's friend from outside the dinner. His well built frame towered over Ingrid, shaking her confidence slightly. His chocolaty brown eyes sparkled when he scanner her body.
"Munchkin, go get Spot."
The young newsie shot him a questioning glance. "Aw come on, Striker--"
"Do as you're told," Striker replied coolly, pushing him toward the stairs. He then turned back to Ingrid, who still stood on the cold stoop. "Well ya might as well come in."
She moved awkwardly into the room filled with Brooklyn newsboys. Shifting uncomfortably under the scrutiny of their eyes, Ingrid repositioned Gunnar on her hip.
"Spot?"
Groaning, Spot lifted his head off the pillow. "I thought I told ya boys ta leave me alone."
"Striker sent me," Munchkin said shyly, taking a tentative step into the room.
"its jist gonna have ta wait til tomorrow, Munchkin. I'm tryin ta—"
"There's a girl downstairs," Munchkin interrupted, cowering slightly as he waited for Spot's reaction.
Spot shot up in bed, hitting his head on Striker's bunk in the process. Rubbing his forehead, he bolted passed the young newsie and down the stairs. His eyes widened when he saw Ingrid standing in the middle of the room with Gunnar sleeping on her shoulder.
When he realized that the other boys were staring at him, he quickly masked his shock and hardened his features. "Boys, why don't ya clear out an let us talk."
The boys were too curious to move until Striker shooed them out. "You heard him, beat it."
Striker turned back to the pair, a triumphant smile on his face. Spot gave Striker a direct look. "You too, boyo."
Striker stared at his friend in shock. He had never been excluded from any of the events in Spot's life, and he resented the suggestion. Frustrated, he stalked out of the front door, slamming it behind him.
With the room now empty, Spot let a broad smile play across his lips. "You changed your mind?"
"I am here for Gunnar," she said coolly, fighting to keep her voice steady.
Spot saw the pain in her eyes as she stood before him. It was obvious that asking for help was not in her nature and the action was extremely difficult for her. "Fair enough. Common, I'll show ya to an empty bunk."
Ingrid began to climb the stairs behind him, but found it difficult to carry Gunnar and not trip on her skirt. Noticing that she had fallen behind, he retraced his steps and lifted Gunnar easily from her arms.
They came to the top of the stairs and entered a large room crammed full of bunk beds. A few stray newsies sat around smoking. They regarded Spot and Ingrid with curiosity before returning to their conversation.
"This is the bunkroom," Spot explained, setting Gunnar gently on an empty bed. "We's pretty fill up right now, so the two of you'll have to share a bunk for now."
"That is alright," she replied, hiding the excitement of having a bed to sleep on for the first time in months.
"Some of these boys have troubles stayin in one place, so another bunk's bound to open up soon. Come on, I'll give you the nickel tour." He led her around the small building, pointing out anything that he thought she might need to know. Eventually they ended up back in the bunkroom. "Why don't ya try to get some sleep? The boys'll be filin in soon, but I'll keep em quiet."
Spot sat on the edge of his bed, waiting for Striker to return. All of the other boys were sleeping soundly, but the leader in him refused to rest until he was sure Striker was safe. He ventured a glance at Ingrid, sleeping peacefully across the room. Watching her steady breathing, his nerves began to calm.
"Nice of ya to wait up fer me."
Spot jerked his head around to find Striker standing over him. He quickly stood, although Striker still had him by at least half a foot. "Where ya been boyo? You know better than to stay out without tellin me."
"I see we'se takin in strays now." Striker indicated to the pair sleeping peacefully. "That's nice of ya."
Spot felt his temper flare at the sarcasm dripping from Striker's comment.
"What's it to ya?" Spot shot back, louder than he intended. He lowered his voice and leaned closer. "Last I checked, I was the leader round here. It's my call. Ya got a problem with dat?"
Striker shook his head and lifted himself into bed. "This girl's got ya wrapped round her finger, huh buddy boy?"
Spot buried his head in his hands and dropped onto his bed. Trying to push the argument from his mind, he laid back and forced himself to sleep.
Ingrid was awakened by raised voices. Her heartbeat raced for a moment until she recognized her surroundings. She closed her eyes again, trying to fall back into a deep sleep, but it was too late. She was awake and restless.
Trying not to wake Gunnar, who was still sound asleep beside her, Ingrid slipped out from under the covers and moves to the window. When she discovered a fire escape leading to the roof, she quickly lifted the glass and climbed up.
Spot woke with a shiver. He glanced over at the window, surprised to find it open. Occasionally, the boys would sneak out for a late smoke, but they knew better than to leave the window open behind them. Letting his leader instincts take over, he quickly scanned the room to see if anything was out of place.
His heart raced when he noticed that Ingrid was no longer sleeping beside Gunnar. He crawled out of bed, grabbing his jacket before he slipped quietly out the window.