Ingrid was returning to the lodging house in high spirits when she heard
voices in the street. She looked up just in time to see Spot push Striker
away and take off down the street. Striker cursed and took off around the
corner, leaving Ingrid alone on the cold street, very confused.
Moving into the lodging house to avoid the cold, she walked over to the poker table in the corner of the lobby.
Gunnar looked up from his cards. "Ingrid, Pokey is teaching me poker."
"I see that," Ingrid said, ruffling his hair with a smile.
Pokey looked up shyly. "Spot asked me to watch him. Poker was the only thing that I could think that would make him sit still. I hope that's alright."
"It is fine," she said softly. "Would you mind watching him a bit longer while I go wash up?"
"No problem." Pokey flashed her a grin. "I'll even keep the boys down here fer ya."
Ingrid stood in the washroom, relieved as the dirt washed off her face and down the drain. Grabbing a forgotten deck of cards, she sat by the window. She began a quiet game of solitaire, enjoying the privacy after the chaos of living in the lodging house.
Hours later, when he had calmed his nerves, Striker returned to the bunk house.
"Hey Striker, where's Spot?"
Completely ignoring Pokey's question, Striker stalked toward the stairs. Pokey stood from the card game and blocked his path. "Ingrid's up there. I told her that I'd keep all the boys down here."
"Good for you kid," Striker said, pushing him aside before continuing up the stairs.
Ingrid jumped when the door creaked open behind her. She quickly turned to see Striker leaning against the doorframe. "You and I need to have a little talk."
Ingrid shifted uncomfortably, the harsh tone in his voice shaking her resolve.
"I want you and yer little brat out of here before nightfall," Striker said firmly, standing over her with his arms crossed over his chest.
She stood up to him, her full height nearly a foot shorter than the newsie, but she was not dissuaded. "Excuse me?"
"I have worked long and hard to get Spot to where he is today an I can't afford a pretty little thing like you around distractin him. Although I can't say that I blame him."
He reached out a hand to touch Ingrid and she slapped it away. "We're not going anywhere. And you would be wise to keep your hands to yourself."
"Ya think that I can't get rid of you, well you've got another thing comin, girlie. I can take care of you just like I did Stella." As he spoke, he backed her against the wall, bracing a hand on either side of her. "He was doin just fine forgettin about her til you came along. Now he's runnin all over Brooklyn lookin for her."
"Stella?" She asked, too confused to worry about his actions.
"You didn't really think that you were the first, did ya?" he asked, leaning closer, running a hand down her side until it came to rest above her hip. "Though, I have to admit, it's gonna be a lot harder to see you go."
When the shock wore off, her senses came to life and she realized what was happening. She tried to free herself from his grasp, but he was much stronger and he held her firmly against the wall. Panic began to set in. "Stop!"
Spot returned to the lodging house, unable to control the smile that spread across his face. After an hour of searching, he had finally found her. His Stella.
He walked through the door, surprised to find Gunnar still playing poker. His elation was quickly replaced by mild fear. "Is Ingrid not back yet?"
"Nah, she's here. Upstairs," Pokey replied, not looking up from his cards.
Spot sighed in relief, but a sinking feeling settled in his stomach. A muffled cry came from the bunkroom. The boys playing poker all jumped, their cards dropping to the table.
"Who's up there with her?" Spot asked quickly, trying to put the pieces together in his head.
"Striker," Pokey replied quietly. "He got in about ten minutes ago."
Before Pokey could even finish his sentence, Spot started for the stairs, calling down after him. "Pokey, get Gunnar outta here. Take him to Manhattan; I'll be right behind ya."
Pokey nodded and quickly headed out the door, dragging Gunnar behind him.
Spot pushed his way through the closed door, shocked to find Striker pushing Ingrid against the wall. "What the hell do ya think you're doin boyo?"
"Ey, Spotty boy, how was your visit?" Striker asked, not moving from his position in front of Ingrid.
His anger boiling over, Spot darted across the room, pushing Striker away from Ingrid and onto the floor. "Keep your hands off of her."
Finally free of Striker's roaming hands, Ingrid slumped against the wall.
"Get out," Spot said, taking deep breaths to calm himself. "I don't ever wanna see ya in the lodging house again."
"Aw, come on Spot. She's just a girl. Ya gonna let her get between us?" Striker asked coolly, picking himself up off the ground.
"You've ruined too many lives around here, boyo. I ain't gonna let it happen again, not to her." He clenched his jaw. "Out."
Striker narrowed his eyes. "You can't do this, Spot. I made you who you are. If it weren't for me, you'd be nothin more than a weepy kid."
Spot rolled his eyes. "If it weren't for you, Stella would still be here, safe with me."
"It was for your own good, buddy boy. She was dragging you down. Just like this whore and her little brat."
Spot's anger got the best of him and he threw his fists at Striker. He poured his anger into his punches, connecting with his face and stomach. Eventually, Striker succumbed to Spot's fists and collapsed onto the floor.
Spot squatted beside him, wiping the blood that was trickling slowly from his lip, a result of Striker's one connected blow. "Out."
When Striker had limped out of the room, Spot moved to Ingrid, placing a hand lightly on her shoulder. "Are you alright?"
She sat, staring blankly at the opposite wall, still in shock.
"Come on," Spot said, helping her to her feet. "Let's get ya someplace safe."
As Spot led her through the lobby, the boys stared at them in confusion after seeing Striker's condition when he left.
"We'se goin to Manhattan fer awhile. I'm sendin Pokey back with instructions and while I'm gone, he's in charge. Got it?"
"Sure thing, Spot," Munchkin replied, coming to the front of the group.
The cold air on the street began to slowly pull Ingrid out of her state of shock. Striker's words began to sink in and she felt a sudden need for explanation. "Do you love her?"
"Who?" Spot asked, surprised by the sound of her voice in the silence.
"Stella. Do you still love Stella?" Ingrid whispered.
Spot stopped cold. He knew that he eventually needed to explain the situation to Ingrid, he just didn't want to add to the stress of the night. He tried to think of a way to avoid the question, but one look into her eyes and he knew that the truth needed to come out. "Yes, I do."
Ingrid's shoulders fell, tears welling in her eyes. Determined not to let him see her weakness, she turned her back to him. "I see."
"Ingrid, it's not what you think," he began, resting a hand on her shoulder.
"It's alright, Caleb. Gunnar and I will be out of your way then."
"Please don't leave," Spot said softly, forcing her to turn and face him. "I love you too much to see you leave."
She swallowed the lump that rose in her throat. "I don't understand. How can you love two women at once?"
"Come with me," he said, offering his hand. "I'll show ya."
Moving into the lodging house to avoid the cold, she walked over to the poker table in the corner of the lobby.
Gunnar looked up from his cards. "Ingrid, Pokey is teaching me poker."
"I see that," Ingrid said, ruffling his hair with a smile.
Pokey looked up shyly. "Spot asked me to watch him. Poker was the only thing that I could think that would make him sit still. I hope that's alright."
"It is fine," she said softly. "Would you mind watching him a bit longer while I go wash up?"
"No problem." Pokey flashed her a grin. "I'll even keep the boys down here fer ya."
Ingrid stood in the washroom, relieved as the dirt washed off her face and down the drain. Grabbing a forgotten deck of cards, she sat by the window. She began a quiet game of solitaire, enjoying the privacy after the chaos of living in the lodging house.
Hours later, when he had calmed his nerves, Striker returned to the bunk house.
"Hey Striker, where's Spot?"
Completely ignoring Pokey's question, Striker stalked toward the stairs. Pokey stood from the card game and blocked his path. "Ingrid's up there. I told her that I'd keep all the boys down here."
"Good for you kid," Striker said, pushing him aside before continuing up the stairs.
Ingrid jumped when the door creaked open behind her. She quickly turned to see Striker leaning against the doorframe. "You and I need to have a little talk."
Ingrid shifted uncomfortably, the harsh tone in his voice shaking her resolve.
"I want you and yer little brat out of here before nightfall," Striker said firmly, standing over her with his arms crossed over his chest.
She stood up to him, her full height nearly a foot shorter than the newsie, but she was not dissuaded. "Excuse me?"
"I have worked long and hard to get Spot to where he is today an I can't afford a pretty little thing like you around distractin him. Although I can't say that I blame him."
He reached out a hand to touch Ingrid and she slapped it away. "We're not going anywhere. And you would be wise to keep your hands to yourself."
"Ya think that I can't get rid of you, well you've got another thing comin, girlie. I can take care of you just like I did Stella." As he spoke, he backed her against the wall, bracing a hand on either side of her. "He was doin just fine forgettin about her til you came along. Now he's runnin all over Brooklyn lookin for her."
"Stella?" She asked, too confused to worry about his actions.
"You didn't really think that you were the first, did ya?" he asked, leaning closer, running a hand down her side until it came to rest above her hip. "Though, I have to admit, it's gonna be a lot harder to see you go."
When the shock wore off, her senses came to life and she realized what was happening. She tried to free herself from his grasp, but he was much stronger and he held her firmly against the wall. Panic began to set in. "Stop!"
Spot returned to the lodging house, unable to control the smile that spread across his face. After an hour of searching, he had finally found her. His Stella.
He walked through the door, surprised to find Gunnar still playing poker. His elation was quickly replaced by mild fear. "Is Ingrid not back yet?"
"Nah, she's here. Upstairs," Pokey replied, not looking up from his cards.
Spot sighed in relief, but a sinking feeling settled in his stomach. A muffled cry came from the bunkroom. The boys playing poker all jumped, their cards dropping to the table.
"Who's up there with her?" Spot asked quickly, trying to put the pieces together in his head.
"Striker," Pokey replied quietly. "He got in about ten minutes ago."
Before Pokey could even finish his sentence, Spot started for the stairs, calling down after him. "Pokey, get Gunnar outta here. Take him to Manhattan; I'll be right behind ya."
Pokey nodded and quickly headed out the door, dragging Gunnar behind him.
Spot pushed his way through the closed door, shocked to find Striker pushing Ingrid against the wall. "What the hell do ya think you're doin boyo?"
"Ey, Spotty boy, how was your visit?" Striker asked, not moving from his position in front of Ingrid.
His anger boiling over, Spot darted across the room, pushing Striker away from Ingrid and onto the floor. "Keep your hands off of her."
Finally free of Striker's roaming hands, Ingrid slumped against the wall.
"Get out," Spot said, taking deep breaths to calm himself. "I don't ever wanna see ya in the lodging house again."
"Aw, come on Spot. She's just a girl. Ya gonna let her get between us?" Striker asked coolly, picking himself up off the ground.
"You've ruined too many lives around here, boyo. I ain't gonna let it happen again, not to her." He clenched his jaw. "Out."
Striker narrowed his eyes. "You can't do this, Spot. I made you who you are. If it weren't for me, you'd be nothin more than a weepy kid."
Spot rolled his eyes. "If it weren't for you, Stella would still be here, safe with me."
"It was for your own good, buddy boy. She was dragging you down. Just like this whore and her little brat."
Spot's anger got the best of him and he threw his fists at Striker. He poured his anger into his punches, connecting with his face and stomach. Eventually, Striker succumbed to Spot's fists and collapsed onto the floor.
Spot squatted beside him, wiping the blood that was trickling slowly from his lip, a result of Striker's one connected blow. "Out."
When Striker had limped out of the room, Spot moved to Ingrid, placing a hand lightly on her shoulder. "Are you alright?"
She sat, staring blankly at the opposite wall, still in shock.
"Come on," Spot said, helping her to her feet. "Let's get ya someplace safe."
As Spot led her through the lobby, the boys stared at them in confusion after seeing Striker's condition when he left.
"We'se goin to Manhattan fer awhile. I'm sendin Pokey back with instructions and while I'm gone, he's in charge. Got it?"
"Sure thing, Spot," Munchkin replied, coming to the front of the group.
The cold air on the street began to slowly pull Ingrid out of her state of shock. Striker's words began to sink in and she felt a sudden need for explanation. "Do you love her?"
"Who?" Spot asked, surprised by the sound of her voice in the silence.
"Stella. Do you still love Stella?" Ingrid whispered.
Spot stopped cold. He knew that he eventually needed to explain the situation to Ingrid, he just didn't want to add to the stress of the night. He tried to think of a way to avoid the question, but one look into her eyes and he knew that the truth needed to come out. "Yes, I do."
Ingrid's shoulders fell, tears welling in her eyes. Determined not to let him see her weakness, she turned her back to him. "I see."
"Ingrid, it's not what you think," he began, resting a hand on her shoulder.
"It's alright, Caleb. Gunnar and I will be out of your way then."
"Please don't leave," Spot said softly, forcing her to turn and face him. "I love you too much to see you leave."
She swallowed the lump that rose in her throat. "I don't understand. How can you love two women at once?"
"Come with me," he said, offering his hand. "I'll show ya."