Chapter 10

I was forced to wait for Spot on the other side of the Brooklyn Bridge on account of the fact that since I had hardly ever roamed the streets of Brooklyn, I had no idea where to go. I was attracting a lot of stares, with my scuffed up clothes and useless left arm hanging by my side, not to mention the fact that I was being pursued by and egotistical jerk. I tapped my foot impatiently as Spot rushed up, panting, his hair all over the place. Doubling over, he clutched his stomach, gasping for breath. After about five minutes, he managed to recover enough to straighten up and glare at me. I was trying desperately not to laugh, and failing miserably.

"That," he said. "was not funny."

"Are youse gonna be okay?" I asked, choking back a giggle.

"O'course!" he barked. He was still breathing rather heavily.

"Youse has da woist endourance I'se evah seen," I told him.

"Hey, I'se can't help it! It's a long bridge!" he huffed indignantly. He looked around confusedly, and for a moment, I thought we were lost, but then his face cleared and he turned to the left. I breathed a shaky sigh of relief and followed him down the winding street, biting my lip to distract myself from the pain in my arm. It would not have been good to be lost in Brooklyn, even in daylight.

After what seemed like hours, but was actually about fifteen minutes, Spot stopped in front of a small building in the heart of Brooklyn. It was a slightly run-down but clean doctor's office. And it would have looked more promising if there hadn't been a sign on the door that said "Closed." I gave Spot a dirty look.

"Da bes' doctah in Brooklyn's da one dat's closed, huh?"

"Shaddup, Manhattan. Don't talk abou' things youse don't undahstand." Ignoring the sign, he tapped out a complicated rhythm on the door. After a few seconds, we heard someone fumbling with the lock on the other side, and the door creaked open to reveal a round, kind-looking older man with bushy white hair and thick spectacles. When he saw Spot, his face split into a wide grin.

"Ah, Meester Conlon! It eez a pleayzure to see you agahn! Come een! Come een!" He opened the door and ushered us in.

"Hey, Benoit, how ya doin'?" Spot said in a voice I had never heard him use before. He had a genuine smile on his face and looked positively ecstatic to see the old man.

"Ay, can't complain," the old man grinned even more widely. "And 'oo eez zis lovely lass? She eez your guerlfriend, no?"

"I most certainly am not!" I said hotly, not caring about being rude. Spot just laughed.

"No, Benoit, she's a patient foah ya. 'N crazy ta boot."

"What?" I shrieked indignantly. Benoit burst out laughing – a deep, throaty chuckle that seemed to fill the whole room. I glared at Spot, who gave me a cocky grin.

"I'd hit ya," I growled through clenched teeth. "But I'd be riskin' injurin' my oddah arm and dat wouldn' be good."

Spot's cheeky grin widened, but Benoit cut in before he could answer.

"Oh, no, zat arm looks terreble. When deed zees 'appen?"

"'Bout an hour ago," Spot said. "We woulda come soonah, bu' it's kinda a long walk from Manhattan, and youse da bes' doctah in da city."

The old man looked embarrassed by the praise. "Sank you, Meester Conlon, but I don't know eef even my skeels weel be good enough for zees young lady."

I was horrified. The thought of having to struggle around with only one working arm was more than I could bear.

"Bu' I need dis arm!" I wailed. "It's a crucial par' o' me! It's my pape arm!"

Spot let out a snort of laughter at my dramatics. I glared at him again. Benoit gave me a hopeful smile.

"I weel do my best, miss," he said.

The next few hours were some of the longest in my life. After giving me a powder that was supposed to help ease the pain and swelling, and then some awful-tasting liquid that was supposed to calm my nerves, Benoit set to work fixing my arm. I had to lie completely still on an old wooden table, keeping everything immobile, while he took my arm and carefully maneuvered the bone back into place so it would heal properly, nice and straight. Needless to say, it was a very painful experience, despite the powder, and there were several instances where Spot was forced to physically hold me down to keep me from moving. When the bone was finally set, Benoit took some white gauzy cloth and wrapped around and around my arm, and then covered the whole thing with plaster. While we waited for it to harden, Benoit left to see another patient, leaving Spot and me alone in the room. Several minutes passed before I voiced something I had been thinking about all day.

"Why were ya runnin'? When ya knocked inta me an' all?"

"Oh, that? Um, it wasn't nothin' importan'," Spot said evasively.

"Really?" I asked him. "I think I deserve to know, since it was my arm dat broke 'n all."

"Well, I don't," Spot said rudely. "It really is none o' yer business."

"Actually, I think it is," I said, feeling my anger begin to heat up. Why was he so goddamn stubborn?

"No, it ain't."

"Spot Conlon, as leader of the Manhattan newsies, I demand to know why youse were runnin'!"

"I ain't tellin'."

"Conlon…" My eyes spit fire. I was majorly ticked off, and Spot was going to feel my wrath if he didn't spill anytime soon. Evidently he noticed the danger signs, because he threw up his hands in mock surrender.

"Fine, fine, youse win! Bu' don't ge' used ta it. If youse really must know, I was runnin' cuz Priscilla was angry at me foah some reason o' anuddah!"

I burst out laughing. "You ran from one o' your weekly goils?"

"Shaddup, Manhattan!"

I collapsed, laughing hysterically. At that very moment, Benoit came back to check on the cast.

"Alright, missy, you are free to go. But pleez, be vairy caireful wif zee cast! Do not get eet wet or do not smash eet! And do not run eento anee one else!"

I promised him I would be careful, and after paying him for his kindness, Spot and I left.

"I guess, Conlon, I guess I should thank ya foah your help taday, " I said awkwardly.

Spot grunted.

"I mean, youse saved my pape arm."

A hint of a smile tugged at his mouth.

"So, thanks," I finished.

A happy, not cocky, grin spread across his face. It was dazzling. It was like a different Spot. Not the self-centered, arrogant jerk he normally was, but someone else. A nice Spot. A Spot with a heart. And amazing blue eyes...

I did not just think that. The pain must have made me delusional. I need to go back to Benoit and get a sanity powder.

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