Whispers of gossip had filled the morning air of the Manhattan Lodging House. Something important or dangerous must have happened, because there could be no other explanation for the great Spot Conlon to pay a visit to Manhattan. Appearing only for a few minutes, he had disappeared, having been pointed in the direction of Jack Kelly's location.
The shadow of a thin blonde girl tracked Spot as he reached one of Jack Kelly's selling spots, luckily catching him as he sold his last paper. Surprised to the see the disgruntled Brooklyn newsboy, Jack's mouth dropped a little before eliciting a question. "What are you doing in Manhattan Spot?"
The light brown eyebrows of the Brooklyn boy raised into a knowing look. "I need to talk to you… but not here…follow me…" Spot lead him into the nearest deserted alley and crossed his arms, waiting for Jack's explanation.
"You probably want to know what's going on, dontcha?" Jack sighed, running his hand through his brown tresses. "We'll we're harboring someone Spot, someone who's past is after them…"
"And that gang is after this person right?" Spot said, already knowing the answer. With a nod from Jack, Spot spoke again. "Well you ain't doing a very good job of hiding her, are ya?"
Jack scowled slightly. "You think you know who's been seeping out information, dontcha?"
Spot nodded. "Yeah, I think I do. I ain't a hundred percent certain, but I got a feeling that I'm right, whether I want to be or not."
A soft scuffle was heard at the entrance to the alley, Spot's alert ears barely picking it up. Quickly he ran to the entrance. Around the corner the crowd on the sidewalk had been separated, but the girl was far enough away that all Spot saw was the low blonde ponytail bouncing behind her disappearing body.
Jack had followed after, not sure what had happened.
Spot's face lit up in anger, hitting the brick wall beside him, glaring at the ground before looking back up at Jack. "Well we'll know for sure who it is if someone's missing tonight… and that someone being a girl."
Manhattan," Bitter spoke the borough's name with disgust. "I haven't been here in months… and I really don't miss it."
Irish Flare laughed at her friend's dislike for Manhattan and dragged her towards the lodging house.
"Don't you think I'm gonna be nice to Jack Kelly either… that rat bastard," Bitter sputtered, the sudden thought of her ex-boyfriend making her insides boil in anger.
"Oh just get over him, he's a bastard! Just ignore him while were here, ok Bitts?"
Bitter sighed, reluctant to compromise something she knew she couldn't control – her anger. "I'll try," Bitter muttered under her breath, following Irish into the musty old lodging house.
Chatter filled their ears as they entered, the smell of cigars, cigarettes, and dust filling their noses. The large gathering room held a dozen or so Manhattan newsies, the mid-afternoon leaving them with an evening after selling to spare.
All eyes were on them as they entered, but the glaring faces of the two girls instantly made them return to what they were doing. While Bitter tried to hunt down information on Spot's whereabouts, Irish took in all that was happening around her. Spring seemed to have a blooming affect on the newsies. All around her, newsgirls and boys were coupling up.
Seated on an old, gray couch was an older newsgirl, maybe the age of seventeen. Her blue eyes were racing across the lines of an old, battered book, the title in worn black letter. A Tale of Two Cities. Her medium built body was leaning against a love-struck David. His hands were content weaving through her dark brown hair, and every once in a while he would lean down and kiss her cheek.
She shifted, her long brown skirt hitting the ground as she stood. "Where are you going Flit?" David pouted.
"Bathroom silly, but don't worry… I'll miss you while I'm gone." Flit leaned down and kissed him before she left.
Leaning against Kloppman's desk were a deep red-haired girl and a blonde newsboy. Dutchy had taken to playing with a streak of blonde in her red hair. Her face was flushed and her voice soft as she spoke. Dutchy was trying to achieve getting her grey eyes to meet his own. Telling a joke, the girl softly giggled and watched as he adjusted his glasses slightly.
"That's Corduroy," a friendly voice spoke up next to Irish.
Irish Flare smiled at the girl who had suddenly appeared next to her. The girl stood a good four inches above Irish (Irish being only 5'2") and her dark chestnut hair was down, falling past her shoulder blades. Her usual flannel shirt was tied around her waist and her dark blue newsies' cap was falling a bit to the side, revealing her shining slate blue eyes.
"Nice to see you Illusion."
"Same to you," Illusion spoke, turning to face her. "Not here to see Snitch are you?"
"So observant aren't you?" Irish smiled and, remembering who had dragged her all the way to Manhattan, she scanned the room for the feisty blonde teenager who had easily become her best friend in the past week.
"She's ransacking the bunk room looking for Spot, or something close at least…" Illusion smirked, pointing Irish in Bitter's direction.
Bitter was frustrated, to say the least. "Damn boy…" Bitter muttered under her breath, resigning herself to the nearest bunk. The room was empty so she thought no one would disturb her, but she was wrong.
A few moments after lying down, a face appeared above her. Piercing blue eyes glared at her and the girl's brown hair had fallen over the dark features of her face. "Who are you?" The two girls asked at the same time.
As quickly as her face had appeared, it disappeared. A few seconds passed and the tall lanky body of the girl was lowered to the ground, finding Bitter face to face with a very tough looking gypsy. Smirking back at Bitter, she stuck out her hand spitting in it. "I'm Gip."
Following suit, Bitter stuck out her own spit-covered hand and offered a cocky reply of, "Bittah."
"I'se hoid of ya," Gip stated as she sat down on the bunk opposite Bitter.
"You don't seem like you belong in Manhattan…" Bitter complimented the girl.
"And neither do you, and yet we're both here…" Before Bitter could say anything more… Shooter tore through the door.
Without noticing Bitter, Shooter ran to the bunk closest to the window. Scrounging beneath it, she gathered the few items that remained there. Shocked, Bitter couldn't seem to get a word out of her mouth.
Gip was the one to finally break the silence. "Hey Shootah, where de fuck are ya going? You're actin like yer pants are on fire."
The sudden noise made Shooter jump, dropping everything she had been holding in her hands. Bitter stood suddenly, and for a split second their eyes met. Shooter's eyes grew wide and she shot out the window and hurried down the fire escape.
There was no trace of her by the time Bitter found her feet and got to the window. "Fuck!" Bitter growled, punching the wall nearest to her.
Gip gave her a funny look. "What?"
Calming her self, Bitter spoke slowly, almost cautiously. "I don't know what, but something very wrong is going to happen… and it's going to happen very soon…" A look of worry mixed with the dangerous green of Bitter's eyes and carefully traced the path down the fire escape and where Shooter had last been.