Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies (though it would be nice) but any added characters are mine.

The fearless leader of the Brooklyn Newsies, Spot Conlon, stood gazing out across the expanse of ocean, thinking to himself.

I'm 17 already. He thought.

Mr. James, the owner of the Brooklyn Newsboys Lodging House, had so rudely pointed that out to him earlier that day.

"You need to start looking for a real job; get a life. You know you can't stay here forever." Mr. James words rang in his head.

"I wonder what this ocean will look like a hundred years from now?" Spot wondered.

The gentle waves licked the shore and rocked the harbor. The water, iridescent blue, shown proudly against the horizon. The gulls flew stealthy overhead scanning for food.

Spot loved to look at the ocean. He enjoyed its calm, seclusion and got a thrill out of its destructive power. He recalled when his mother would have picnics along the sandy shores and he could play in the water for hours and go home sun burnt. Whenever the wind blew against his cheek he could feel his mother's loving warmth.

"Spot!" A voice broke through his thoughts.

Spot turned around to see his pal from Manhattan, Racetrack Higgins, running toward him.

"'ey, Spot! Jackie-boy needs youse up at da lodge. He's havin' some problems 'n' needs an experts' opinion." Race said, popping a cigar in his mouth.

Spot sighed and walked past Race, "Again?"

Race nodded as he caught up with Spot and fell into step next to him.

'Can't Jackie-boy run a lousy Newsie gang on his own?' Spot thought furiously.