"I can't believe you've never been to Brooklyn before, Les," Rum said to me as we walked.

"Of course I've been to Brooklyn," I replied. We were on the bridge, which was huge. I had no idea it was so big. "Just once, though, for Spot Conlon's funeral."

David had his hand on my shoulder. I had never even met Spot Conlon, but yet I was at his funeral. Jack and Sarah had returned from New Mexico to bury their friend. They'd be in town for only a week.

So many people were crammed into that church. Hundreds even stood outside just to pay their respects. I looked up at Jack, whose expression was stone cold. As I glanced around, I noticed only blank faces. Brooklyn boys didn't cry.

"Oh yeah, I remember that," said Rum. "That really sucked. You would think that someone like Conlon would go out with his head held high, not beaten up in some alley."

"Yeah...you ever met him?"

"Course I met him! Everybody's met him."

"I never did."

"Yeah, and that's because you're a pansy."

"Shut up."

We walked in silence for a few minutes. At seven thirty in the morning, Brooklyn was awake and alive. There was no need for us to talk.

Both of the lodging houses in Brooklyn were on the same street, right next to each other. Quite conveniently, they were very close to the bridge.

"Now I'm gonna warn you right now, Jacobs, 'cause I like you: don't tick off Brooklyn."

I blinked and asked. "What do you mean?"

"I mean just what I said. Don't make 'em angry." Rum began to explain, "Like bees, they are. You make them mad, they'll sting you. Most importantly, don't piss off their leader."

Ah, yes. Who could forget the infamous Ace Ballard? What a jackass. He took the throne the second that news began to spread about Spot Conlon's murder. I'd never met Ace either, but from what I heard about him from Poppy, he was a real jerk.

Poppy. The entire reason why we were in Brooklyn in the first place. "Rum, we gotta go see the girls."

He raised an eyebrow. "So we came all this way to see Brooklyn girls?" Understanding slowly swept over his expression. "Oh, right, your girlfriend." He paused. "She know about Six?"

"Well, she was there last night. Draw your own conclusions."

The Brooklyn Newsgirls' Lodging House was slightly smaller than the boys', but both were pretty much identical. As we opened the door, I felt incredibly stupid for some reason. I couldn't place my finger on it.

A tiny little blonde girl sat on the front desk, picking at her fingernails. She looked up at us and grinned. "Boys' house is next door, idiots."

"Yeah, we know," I said. "I'm looking for Poppy Parkview. Do you know where she is?"

She scoffed. "You tell me, Manhattan," she said.

"How do you—"

"You reek of Manhattan," she interrupted simply. "Poppy went out with that boy of hers' yesterday and didn't come back."

What? "She didn't come back?"

"Are you deaf? That's what I just said." The girl rolled her eyes. "Christ, I knew you guys were slow, but this is just ridiculous."

"Shut up," Rum growled. "Stupid bitch."

"Hey, who are you calling a stupid bitch?"

"You, you goddamn Brooklyn whore!"

"Rum!" I yelled. What happened to not making Brooklyn angry?

The little blonde girl hopped off of the desk. With her teeth gritted, she strode up to Rum and gave him a good punch right in the jaw.

"Jesus!" he yelled, falling back a bit. His hand flew to where she had hit him. "When I'm finished with you—"

"I grabbed Rum before he could throw himself at her. "Calm down!" I commanded. "Don't be such a jerk!"

"That bitch hit me!"

"I know. Just quit it, all right?" I sighed and looked at the Brooklyn girl. "I'm sorry," I told her. "My friend can get a little out of hand sometimes."

"So I noticed," she muttered.

"I'm Les Jacobs," I explained. "Poppy's my...well she's sort of...I guess you could say..."

"Ah...so you're this boy Poppy's been all head-over-heels for, huh?" she said with a smile.

"Yeah, I guess that would be me."

"Well in that case, I'm Bridget Roberts. Poppy and I sell together sometimes."

"So you really don't know where she is?" I asked.

Bridget shook her head. "We pretty much assumed she stayed the night with you," she said.

"No. Our boys' house burned down last night." Bridget's jaw dropped. "Yeah...I know."

"Oh my god!" she said. "Poppy's okay, right?"

"I think so. For all I know, she could still be in Manhattan. I donno. I slept on the street last night."

"Well, you're always welcome in Brooklyn," said Bridget. "Just leave your friend in his own borough."

"Thanks. If Poppy shows up, just tell her I'm looking for her, all right?" She nodded in agreement. "Come on, Rum."

Rum shot Bridget a look. "This ain't over, you," he growled as he pointed at her. She only rolled her eyes.

"Take care of yourself, Jacobs," she said.


"Cigarette?"

"No." We sat on the stoop of the girls' lodge.

Rum lit a smoke and deeply inhaled. "I've got this feeling, Les, that our friend Miss Roberts—slut—has given me quite a bad shiner. If that's the case...it was a guy. A huge Brooklyn guy, and he did it 'cause I kissed his girl."

"Right, Rum."

"I'm serious! I got a reputation to protect, here!" He rubbed the spot where Bridget's fist had connected with his jaw, and winced a little.

"Well it ain't like we're all gonna be living in the same place no more," I said. "I wonder what the city'll do about the lodging house."

"Probably forget about it," Rum shrugged. "We don't matter to them, anyways. I suggest moving to a different borough. It'll be quite the walk if you wanna still sell in Manhattan, but it might be worth it."

I sighed. Maybe I would stay in Brooklyn, with Poppy. I felt horrible about pushing her away the night before. The whole reason I went to Brooklyn was to apologize, and to see if I could employ her to help me find Rosie.

Something occurred to me. "Six was a Brooklyn newsie a few years ago, right?"

Rum thought for a moment. "Yeah, until Conlon died. Why?"

"Don't you think somebody should tell the Brooklyn guys about what happened?"

He blinked. "You go right ahead. I'm staying out of it."

"Why not? You got some kind of problem with Brooklyn?"

"No, I ain't got no problem," Rum said. "It's just that I've never really told nobody that somebody they know died, and I wouldn't know what to say."

"Well at least come with me, then."

"No."

"It's right next door!"

Rum thought about it for a moment. "Fine," he said. "I'll go, but on two conditions: one, that I do no talking, and two, that I do no talking."

"That's only one condition, Rum," I told him.

"I know," he replied. "I just thought it would sound better if I said two conditions." What an idiot.

We got up off of the girls' stoop and walked about twenty feet over to the next stoop, which was the guys'. I took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Here goes nothing," I said mostly to myself.

As the two of us walked through the door, we got a couple of stares. Most of the boys had left already to sell their papers, but a fair share of them had stayed behind. Brooklyn was one of the lazier boroughs, with Manhattan coming in a very close second.

"You need something?" one of them asked.

"I need to speak with Ace Ballard."

"You got an appointment?"

"No, I don't got an appointment," I said. "I didn't think I needed one. It's kinda one of those spur-of-the-moment types of things."

"Sorry, Manhattan, but if you ain't got no appointment, you don't see the boss."

Rum scratched his head. "How did you know we're from Manhattan?" he asked.

The guy shrugged. "You just smell like Manhattan, is all," he said.

"So you Brooklynites have super senses, or what?" I asked. "Because the girl next door said the same thing."

"We don't got super senses," said a voice from the top of the stairs. I looked up. "We's just smart."

I knew right from then and there that he was Ace Ballard. It was probably the way he carried himself: back straight, head up, arms at his sides. He had a mop of black curly hair that fell into green eyes. I suppose many girls found him pretty handsome.

"What brings you two to Brooklyn?" he asked.

"Bad news, actually," I replied. "I'm Les Jacobs. This here's Rum Richmond."

"That's fine," Ace said. "Now what's your bad news?"

"It's about Six Parkview, who was a newsie here a few years ago."

"Yeah, I remember the guy," Ace said with a nod. "So what happened to him?"

"Our lodging house burned down last night," I said. "It was his fault, actually, but it's no use blaming him. He died."

Ace's eyes fell to the floor. He nodded a little, and asked, "No joke, right? He's really dead?"

"Why would I joke about something like that?"

"I donno. I guess I don't know you, so I can't really trust you."

"Well you know me now, and trust me, he's dead," I said. I don't think it really had sunk in yet that he was gone. "Poppy Parkview says she doesn't want a funeral, but if you want to give him one, then by all means, go right ahead."

"Yeah, I'll think about it," said Ace. He spit in his hand and held it for me to shake. "Thanks, Jacobs."

I did the same and shook his head. "Anytime." Well, that wasn't so bad. Ace Ballard wasn't too much of an asshole, now that I'd met him. I guess the lesson for the day was not to trust what your friends said.

Or maybe not, but still. Thus ends my adventure in Brooklyn. Rum and I made our way slowly back towards Manhattan. The only thought on my mind now was Rosie, and how the hell I was going to find her.


No time for actual shoutouts today (coz I gotta get going to bible study!) but I will say a super awesome thanks to my Review Crew--specifically Bookey, Buttons, Cricket, Dreamer, and Raeghann. You guys get a choco-covered newsie of your choice and a gold star. Happy reviewing!