Without a second though, Nightclub plunged into the river. He immediately recognized the bobbing head (presumably attached to a body) fighting against the current. Although they didn't appear to be in dire need of help, the water was deep, and the current swift. Nightclub grabbed the boy's collar and kicked out strongly, pulling him to the rope ladder hanging from the docks he hoisted himself out of the water and the boy followed.
Once he was out of the water the boy collapsed on the wood. Fighting against the river had sapped him of his energy. He rolled onto his back and stared at the starry sky above. His wet shirt clung to his chest, rising and falling in time with his deep, ragged breathing.
"Are you . . . okay?" Nightclub panted.
The boy shrugged. "I'll live, but I feel like a human ice cube."
"You nearly gave me a heart attack!" Nightclub gasped as he pulled his shoes on.
"Heart attack? Ha! I've head worse. Can you say 'hypothermia'?" The boy laughed. He had yet to look at Nightclub, and his eyes were fixed on the waxing moon at the moment.
"You were spying on me!" Nightclub said in an accusatory tone.
The boy gave a derisive laugh and glanced at him for the first time since he'd left the water. "Look, Nightcl—"He did a double take; realizing what he was seeing.
Nightclub gave a start and came back to his senses. His heart skipped a beat and he fled.
He ran into an alley and proceeded to bang his head against the rough brick wall. The boy had seen him, realized that Nightclub wasn't who he claimed to be. Would the boy tell? What would Nightclub do if he did? Should he talk to him about it? Beg him to keep his secret? Explain the whole thing?
No. That wouldn't do. Nightclub would just have to hope that the boy would keep quiet. Who could the boy tell anyway? Who would care about Nightclub's identity?
That was answered easily enough. He would care. He would pay a great deal, in cash or lives, it mattered not to Him. To discover where Nightclub was hiding, find him, and make him suffer was all he wanted.
But the boy couldn't be in league with him. He'd known him for ages; he wouldn't betray him, would he? There was nothing Nightclub could do about it, any way. He could only hope the boy would hold his tongue.
Once Nightclub gained a grip on himself he went back home to the Lodging House.
He eased the door open and tiptoed silently across the room, taking care to be as quiet as possible near Marble's bed. He found his own bunk and eased himself onto it, the springs just barley squeaking under his small weight. The mattress above him groaned as Spot sat up for a moment then lay back down.
Nightclub sighed and buried his face into his pillow. He wouldn't sell papes tomorrow, that much was certain. He would go to Manhattan to get away from the boy for a day and let things die down a bit. He had heard of a nightclub down there he wanted to investigate anyway. He could take the day off to pay a visit and no one would think anything of it. He'd mentioned his wish to visit it before.
And there was a slim chance that the boy hadn't recognized Nightclub for what he was. He might have deduced that it was a trick of the light or some other plausible explanation.
And with that thought to calm him, Nightclub fell into a troubled sleep filled with creeping shadows.
"Give me one good reason," Knife Man whispered threateningly in Alex's ear. "I dare you."
Alex desperately wanted to get away and find Anthony so he wouldn't have to face death alone. But he was paralyzed with fear, and even if he wasn't, he couldn't move much with a knife at his throat and his arms pulled behind his back. He had to break free. Suddenly, he remembered his brother, his only family, and it gave him the strength to set aside his fear.
"I love dares," he told Knife Man matter-of-factly and, with that, his fear-induced paralysis evaporated.
He sank his teeth into the wrist clutching the knife and his attacker's grip slackened for a moment. Alex flung his arms up, freeing himself.
Knife Man advanced again, dagger in hand, his face screwed up in a roar of anguish. Alex's mind raced. If he could get rid of the knife, it would be much easier to escape. As he wrestled to free the dagger from his attacker's grasp he was beat up pretty badly and sustained some cuts and could already feel the area around his eye begin to swell. Instead of deterring him, this drove him on. He gave Knife Man a final blow to the head, his blue eyes flashing with rage, and wrenched the knife out of his attacker's hands, threw it from him, and disappeared into the night.
Nightclub awoke without disturbing the other newsies for once, but again his heart raced with fear. Glancing around the room he saw that Marbles was watching him curiously. Almost as soon as Nightclub had registered this, Marbles wiped the look off his face, replacing it with a smirk that didn't reach his eyes. Nightclub smiled back nervously and rose out of bed, watching him out of the corner of his eye.
He hurried to dress before the other Newsies awoke so he could leave for Manhattan without too many questions. As he headed to the washroom Spot and Snaps awoke.
"I'm goin' to Manhattan for the day, I want to check out a nightclub there," Nightclub announced.
"When did you decide this?" Spot inquired.
"Last night," Nightclub replied truthfully.
"I'm glad you put so much thought into it then," remarked Snaps sarcastically. "You don't ever rush into anything."
Snaps was a rather short boy of sixteen with light blonde hair and a long pointed nose. He was not a very warm person, not purposely hurtful, but not particularly friendly to new people. It took a long time for him to trust most people, so it was surprising that Nightclub earned his trust within a month.
Nightclub was in Manhattan in no time, having jogged the whole way. Glimpsing at a sign over a small building that read "The Nightingale" he stopped to see what hours it was open. As he moved away from the door he heard shouts. He followed the sound and met a curious sight.
The Manhattan newsies had gathered in the square, around a large statue of Horace Greeley. They were all shouting in response to what a lone figure, standing on the monument, was saying.
Nightclub didn't know it at the time, but the boy on the statue was Jack "Cowboy" Kelly who would become an ally in battle in the days to come.
A boy at the front of the crowd asked something of Jack who said, "Then we'll talk with 'em."
"Some of 'em don't hear so good!" another boy said.
"Well then we'll soak 'em!"
A boy with dark curly hair, who Nightclub would later find to be named David, darted forward to contradict Jack. Nightclub approached a newsie at the back of the crowd who wore an eye patch.
"Hey, you," he said, tapping him on the shoulder.
"I have a name," the boy said, glancing at him. "Kid Blink."
Blink had sandy blonde hair and a single green eye. He wore a loose fitting shirt and an eye patch, both of which would be passable as pirate apparel.
"Blink, then," said Nightclub, regaining his attention. "What's going on? I'm not from around here."
Blink turned to face him. "Pulitzer and Hurst, that's what's going on. They jacked up the price. We're going on strike. Where are you from, anyway?"
"Brooklyn," replied Nightclub. A nervous look flickered across Blink's face.
"Brooklyn, eh?" he said. "Spot Conlon territory, then?"
"Yeah," Nightclub confirmed. "We're real good pals. He actually sleeps on the bunk above mine."
Blink drew in a long breath through his cigar. "Huh," he muttered. Nightclub could tell he was impressed, even if he was too proud to show it. The Brooklynites were the most famous and respected newsies. They rose up above the others, working as one strong unit that could beat any odds, a powerful and valuable asset. Spot Conlon, as their leader, was really the only newsie known abroad by name. With their slingshots and easy, powerful confidence the other newsies were in awe of them all.
Blink turned his attention back to Cowboy and a moment later he had joined the sea of newsboys.
Jack climbed down from the headline board and stood with David in front of Pulitzer's office and began giving orders. When David told him he would need ambassadors, Cowboy relayed the information to the other newsies, telling them to be "ambastards." Nightclub snorted; this "Cowboy" did not have an extensive vocabulary.
He assigned groups of newsies to visit various boroughs of New York. Many volunteered to go, or, at least, accepted their borough cheerfully until he got to Brooklyn.
"Alright, uh, Brooklyn. Who wants Brooklyn?" Cowboy called out. All of the Manhattan newsies looked away, scratching their heads or taking sudden interest in things like clouds or a cracked cobblestone.
"What's the matter, you guys scared of Brooklyn?" Jack asked. Everyone, Nightclub included, knew that the honest answer was "yes", but it was not considered brave or manly to be afraid. To be afraid was cowardice.
"Hey, we ain't scared of Brooklyn!" a small boy named Boots exclaimed. "It's just, Spot Conlon makes us a little . . . nervous."
Nightclub smiled. Try as Manhattan might there was no denying it, they were scared of Brooklyn, and Spot in particular.
It was eventually decided that Jack, Boots, and David would go to Brooklyn. As Jack swung open the doors of Pulitzer's office Nightclub realized that he would have to go home right away. Jack would probably make his trip to Brooklyn tomorrow and he wanted to give Spot ample time to consider Manhattan's proposition.
Leaning up against Greeley's statue was a boy who had realized what Nightclub had not. As the boy remembered, he wanted to shout with joy as well as fear for finally finding him, even after he had given up all hope.
Author's Note: Much love to Tutleluver256, reject187, muchluver4ever, Garen Ruy Maxwell, and Cinnamon Spice! Now review or the autheress and her official story-typer-uper will hunt you down and bite your legs off!