Spot lay in his bunk that night with his key necklace dangling from his fingers above his deep blue eyes. It was close to midnight and the full moon peered in through the window. Occasional soft snores sounded throughout the room full of his fellow snoozing newsies, and there was practically no movement. The boys were sleeping comfortably and sprawled out all over their beds. When nights like this occurred, in which Spot had difficult sleeping, he would usually sneak out and walk around for a little bit. It was usually calm where they lived and uneventful during the night, for most part.
He threw the necklace around his neck and yanked his shirt over his head. Oh-so-carefully he jumped down, making sure not to land on Bolt that was on the bottom bunk. Slipping on his shoes he looked at Bolt to see if he was still sleeping; he was. In fact he slept deeply on his stomach with his thumb partially in his mouth. Spot laughed, amused, and opened the window between their bunk and the one next to it.
The fire escape shook a little bit as he landed on it and stepped down to the ground. It was practically empty out on the street as he made is way over. A few pedestrians strolled around and some drunken men made their way out of a nearby bar. Spot went onto the sidewalk and trotted around aimlessly, hands in his pockets and head to side full of thoughts. Mostly he thought about Autumn and her delivering his key back to her. Why hadn't Ginger just done it herself? But then again, it would have annoyed him it was her. Ginger just got under his skin now.
To him, Autumn was trying to act all tough and send out the message that she didn't take shit from anyone. Spot could easily see through it, though. He knew it was all just an act. But there was something about Autumn that was different from all of the other girls he had been with. Was it the fact that she didn't want him that made him want her? Did he even want her in the first place? Perhaps it was just the chase that intrigued him.
He felt a cigarette in his pocket and pulled it out. Patting around the rest of his pockets he looked for a match.
"Heah," a stranger about his age said. He offered a lit match to him and Spot quickly brought the cigarette to the flame.
"Thanks," he said as he leaned against the window of a closed shop. The boy did the same thing as they stood there silently, inhaling and exhaling the smoke.
"Quiet tonight," he said, trying to spark a conversation.
"Yep," agreed Spot. They looked out to the street and suddenly a middle-aged man stumbled outside and fell to the ground.
"I take dat back," he said with a quiet laugh. "News bettah pick up, though, if ya ask me. That's 'bout the most exciting thing I'se seen in a while."
"You a newsie?"
"Not fer long if somethin' doesn't happen."
"I hear ya. It's been pretty slow for a long time now."
"You heard 'bout da news, though, dat wouldn't make da paper?"
Spot looked at him, puzzled.
"Bronx got a new leader just a few days ago."
This was news to Spot. Usually he knew these things before everyone else. "What happened to da old one?"
"Don't wanna know. I also don't wanna know how dis one got his power, ya know what I mean?"
Spot nodded, now serious and concerned. This was definitely an unusual thing to happen. The old Bronx leader of the newsies was tough, tougher than any other territory of New York. If he was overthrown, how bad was the new guy? "Know who he is?"
The boy shook his head and stamped out his cigarette on the ground. "But as leadah of Brooklyn, Conlon, I'd watch ya back." With that he turned and disappeared around the corner.
Who the hell was this guy? Spot thought. Was he from Brooklyn? It was too dark out for him to see what he looked like. And was that a threat or a warning? He felt a sharp burning between his fingers as he had carelessly let the cigarette burn down. Dropping it quickly and stamping it out, he rubbed his fingers a little bit.
Making his way back to the lodging house, all he could think about was what that guy had told him. And suddenly he remembered what Roller had said: the boys that tried to steal his money had B tattoos on their arms. All of the devout Bronx newsies engraved the letter into their arms as a sign of who they were and for any newsie to step back in caution. Bronx held the reputation of being rough, intolerant, and often times cruel. They didn't play fairly and most of the other newsies were scared shitless of them.
His pace was quicker as thoughts fluttered around in his head incessantly. It didn't matter that the news was slow anymore, because at that moment Spot realized that everything would be different.
A short chapter. I promise it will pick up!