Author's note: Thanks to Crunch for reviewing the last part, and to Bittah for all her support and beta-ing. I hope you guys like this part!
"…and Mama says dat, dat, um, maybe I can go to school in a few years, since you're heah now and we can get a lot more money den we used ta." Lily gazed up at Spot with wide, questioning eyes. "But what do ya t'ink Ethan? Maybe I should go ta woik like you'se did? Jesse and Becca are old enough ta get jobs at factories, but ya know, dey say it's real loud deah, and I ain't supposed ta talk 'cause I'd have ta concentrate on da woik, so dat wouldn't be much fun. But I t'ink dat happens in school, too, 'cause Johnny in da next buildin' says dat at his school da teachahs are real mean and…"
Spot absently listened to his youngest sister's chipper and seemingly constant voice echo against the thin walls of the room. He could recall the walls trembling (like his bones used to) at the sound of his father's piercingly angry voice. A shriek of high-pitched giggles from Lily forced his back muscles to become taut like guitar strings. The sound of laughter was so foreign to him in that tenement. He would have to clench his teeth and fists so that the screams he had hidden as a child would not manifest themselves.
He sensed his mother's gentle, callused hand rest on the small of his back, and managed not to flinch. "I don't think she's ever talked this much," she murmured with a charmed grin.
"T'ink she'll stop long enough ta let me sleep tahnight?" he whispered back.
"Probably not."
Lily, noticing that she no longer had a captive audience, placed her hands on her hips and frowned petulantly. "I was talkin'," she reminded them.
"And we was listenin'," Spot replied, smiling despite the anxiety that griped him.
He had not known what to expect when he left the Brooklyn newsies to return to his family- or at least what was left of his family. His shoulders were constantly tensed, as if the yells and blows of his childhood would resume. It was disconcerting to sleep under the same roof that he had avoided for so many years and to avoid the place he had taken refuge.
What was I supposed to do? he demanded of himself. It ain't like I coulda jus' left dem heah, aftah ev'ryt'ing dat's happened. I gotta take care of dem now. It ain't like Brooklyn wasn't around befoah I got deah.
Beside him, Lily watched as he meticulously counted coins from a meager pile, chattering loudly as Spot went through the money his mother had managed to save after the funeral. Her eyes sparkled in the faint light of the candle, but it wasn't just the candlelight that illuminated them. They were lit by her laughter, her smile, and her ability to speak without the fear of being screamed at. She had an internal glow more brilliant than the light of the candle. Spot couldn't remember a time when she had been so naturally luminous.
Brooklyn'll get along fine widout me, he tried to assure himself.
*****
Roxy stared through the sea of blackened eyes, bloodied shirts, and trembling hands before her and felt her stomach twist violently. She eyed Wager who, despite his composed veneer, had paled to an unnatural shade and breathed slowly, as though requiring extra breath. Roxy knew exactly how he felt; it seemed as though an unseen, icy hand was clenched around her throat.
"Dey's comin' at us from ev'rywheah," Huck remarked as he held a large piece of ice (stolen from the back of an ice truck) to his bruised arm. "Peach and me was sellin' in our usual spot when we was attacked."
"Dey been watchin' us. And we been too preoccupied ta notice," Rabbit spat vehemently.
Retriever narrowed his eyes defensively. "What did ya expect us ta do? It ain't like our leadah up and abandons us ev'ry day."
"It ain't like none of us know what abandonment is," Jade snapped.
"And it ain't like we don't know how ta deal wid it."
Maybe that's why we're taking it so hard, Roxy pondered as she absently watched her fellow newsies argue. We all know something about loss…but we never expected to lose anything like this. She turned to Wager, who had raised his hands into the air.
"Okay, ev'rybody, settle down already," he called to them. "Now, pretty much all of us had some kinda attack. And even pairin' up, we didn't come out to well." The Brooklyn newsies failed to meet his gaze, ashamed that they had lost their fights so easily. "So what do dey got dat we don't got?"
Stormy gazed up from her tattered boots. "Dey seemed ta know wheah we'd be, and who we'd be wid. Dey…dey had it planned out real well."
"Dey knew about us more den we knew about dem," Smoke mumbled, a cigarette dangling from his lips.
"And dey have real good weapons," Port commented. "Dey ain't jus' comin' at us with fists- even dough dey ain't bad wid jus' does, eiddah. Dey got da fightin' knowledge along wid knives, chains, and slingshots."
"And brass knuckles," Peach spoke up, wincing slightly as she tied a bandage around her head. "Even undah da best of circumstances, dose t'ings kinda hoit."
Leap gazed up from the long gash on her arm. "And dat's annudah t'ing. Dey knew dat dis wasn't da best of circumstances. All da Deblah Street newsies seemed ta know dat we'd be real distracted tahday…what wid ev'ryt'ing dat happened and all. I mean, eiddah dey're real good guessers or dey got spies or somet'ing."
Gull's eyes sliced through the air and into each member of the Brooklyn Lodging House. "It could be someone heah," he remarked, his voice colder and sharper than a hunting knife. "We was da only ones who knew about Spot leavin'; who else could it have been?"
Roxy opened her mouth to protest that no one in Brooklyn would willingly betray their fellow newsies like that, but Gull had already leapt to his feet. "I mean, aftah tahday, who knows? Who really knows who da hell we all are? What do we really know about each uddah? If Spot can jus' leave us, who's ta say dat somebody else wouldn't jus' hand us ovah ta Jackal?" He turned to glare at a few of the newsies. "Not ev'rybody heah got attacked tahday. Maybe dat wasn't jus' a coincidence. Maybe deah's someone heah who ain't feelin' dat badly about da Deblah Street newsies takin' ovah."
Rabbit jumped up, her eyes flashing a dangerous challenge to Gull. "Hey," she growled, "jus' because somebody was smart enough ta stick wid a sellin' partnah and stay in a safe area doesn't make 'em a traitor."
"It makes t'ings look a little suspicious, dough, don't it?" Cardinal, Rabbit's closest friend, replied.
Smoke folded his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes at Gull. "And besides, ya ain't lookin' too bad yourself, Gull. I don't t'ink ya should be the one makin' any accusations."
Gull reddened. "Are ya implyin' somet'ing, Smoke?"
"I'm jus' sayin' maybe ya ain't as honest as ya'd like us ta t'ink- eiddah dat or you'se just a coward."
There was an explosion of fists and furious shouts. Smoke and Gull, cursing and struggling, were torn away from each other by those few who had managed to maintain their sense of faith in their fellow newsies. Accusations flew like bullets. Faces contorted in anger. The din attracted the attention of pedestrians across the street, who turned to study the scene in disgust and confusion. For a moment, Roxy understood Spot's desire to leave Brooklyn.
A sharp whistle pierced the air, followed by a slightly panicked cry. "Jus' shut up! Shut up! All of ya!" Wager had dashed to the stoop in front of the lodging house and gazed down at his fellow newsies, who had momentarily stopped their fight to study their new leader. He breathed deeply as he looked at their faces, so furious and lost and wounded. He didn't know what he could possibly tell them that might ease their pain.
Fortunately, he didn't have to. Mist spoke before he had the opportunity to open his mouth. "Hey," she remarked thoughtfully. "Dat smells like…like…like somet'ing's burnin'."
The Brooklyn newsies' foreheads furrowed and eyebrows arched as they sniffed the air in confusion. "Like papah burnin'," Jade added. 'A lotta papah…."
Despite their injuries, they dashed through the streets without concern for their injuries. Even blocks away they could see ominous clouds of black smoke rising, feel the air burning, and hear wood crackling. Screams pierced the air. Roxy felt her stomach twist into a tight knot. She glanced at the frantic, worried expressions of her fellow newsies and wondered how this could have happened to them in such a short period of time.
They skidded to a terrified halt in front of the distribution office, enveloped in flame and smoke, wearing identical expressions of fear and disbelief. Men and women rushed around the yard clutching buckets of water, which only added to the chaos instead of reducing the flames. Charred wood began to crack and crumble under stress. The smoke attacked their lungs, devouring whatever pure air had existed in Brooklyn. The heat was nearly unbearable, pressing against their flesh like the embodiment of the Debler Street newsies' hatred.
They don't just want our territory, Roxy realized with dull horror. Her eyes were burning and she could not be sure whether that was because of the heat or because of the tears she would not allow to come. They must despise us. Vaguely, she heard the sharp ringing of a bell, signifying a fire truck approaching. She wondered what good that would do to help the Brooklyn newsies.
*****
Roxy believed that she would never wash away the ash that coated her like a second skin. She smelt the scorched wood in her hair, tasted burnt paper on her tongue. The image of the inferno was just as permanently branded in her mind.
The evening was frigid, in sharp contrast to the unnatural heat of that afternoon. Roxy and Wager huddled together on the staircase of their lodging house while the others attempted to sleep. Occasionally they heard the soft sounds of incoherent moans or restless movement, but no one joined the pair on the stairs. It was just as well. Roxy had made a decision and she did not want the others to know about it.
"It coulda been a lot woise," Wager admitted, although he could not conceal the defeated tone of his voice. "All we lost is a couple of days woik- which ain't great, but it ain't like we gotta bury anybody. And dey stopped it from spreadin' ta da oddah buildin's, and maybe from killin' a lot of people- maybe from even destroyin' our lodgin' house."
"They didn't want to destroy the lodging house," she debated with more harshness than she had intended. "They wouldn't destroy what they want. They just did that to scare us."
"It woiked."
Roxy drew a deep breath and lifted her chin defiantly, as though that would help her to gather the courage she needed. "I want to go to Manhattan, Wager."
He raised a curious eyebrow. "Ta live?" he inquired, as though she had just announced she was following in Spot's footsteps. "Roxy, ya can't leave now. I can't believe ya jus' wanna go and-"
She shook her head and held up her hands in defense. "No, no," she assured him. "It's just that…well, you remember that day when we went to see the Manhattan newsies not that long ago? We talked to Jack about knowing anything unusual related to Spot. Well, I don't think he was telling us the whole truth. I kind of understand why he might not want to tell us everything, but things have changed and we need to know what's going on."
"What will dat help?"
She shrugged helplessly. "I…I just need to know what's happened."
"How are ya gonna get deah?" he inquired solemnly. "It's a long walk ta Manhattan. And ya ain't exactly da toughest newsgoil we got."
"I figure the Debler Street newsies have to sleep sometime. If I go out at night, I have a better chance at slipping away without them knowing. I know the area better than they do, especially in the dark." She stared at him with determination illuminating her eyes. "It's better for me to chance getting hurt than to stay here, doing nothing. If it comes down to a fight between us and them, I couldn't help anyway. Maybe I could find something out and get a message to you guys in case anything happens. With everyone hurt, we can't afford to lose any of our good fighters. It's worth the risk."
He shook his head adamantly. "Not ta me," he replied. Roxy opened her mouth to protest, but he continued before she had the chance to speak. "If you'se so bent on goin', den I'm goin' wid ya. Come on- we'd beddah get goin' if we wanna get back befoah da sun comes up."
To be continued…please review!