KAT

It has been hours since I had returned to Manhattan, curled up against Slouch like the child the newsboys thought I was. Hours since Match had talked Jack out of choking the life out of me for being so irresponsible. Hours since the lectures on how I was just a stupid little girl had stopped. Hours since I had bathed and Jack tucked me into my bed and left me alone to think of how horribly Spot Conlon had broken my heart. After everything that had happened I was exhausted, mentally and physically but sleep alluded me. All I could think of was Spot calling me a whore, the cold hard look I had seen in his eyes as he said it. Why would he do that, why would Spot say those terrible things to me, about me? The questions kept rolling through my head and I had no answers for them. How could I have been so hopelessly in love with Spot and never seen how cruel he could be? How had I spent the last ten years of my life daydreaming about the day Spot would finally look at me the way he looked at the girls in Medda's theater and not realized I would never be anything more then Jack Kelly's little sister to him? Which going by what he said to me earlier this evening was absolutely nothing to him. I cannot believe I had been so stupid to believe he cared about me that he would eventually see me as someone desirable, someone to be loved and cherished. Stupid, stupid Kat Kelly, always the silly little girl dreaming about a boy that never existed. Growing up Spot had been Jacks best friend and in turn my surrogate big brother, at least I always thought he viewed it that way. To me though, he had been the handsomest most courageous boy I had ever known. He had always been on the short side but Spot Conlon could not be held back, he was larger then life. Even as a young boy Spot commanded respect he was someone you didn't deal with lightly. He had always been handsome with his steel blue eyes and his unfashionably long dirty blond hair that would hang in his eyes when he was without his cap. I had listened to the other newsgirls and the dancers at Medda's talk about his stamina and how just a look from his eyes could send them over the edge but I had never experienced a sensual Spot. I always got protective Spot, concerned Spot, big brother Spot but never the Spot the girls all raved about. Tammy one of the dancers at Medda's once told me that I was the lucky one that I was the only girl Spot had ever loved and probably would ever love, that he was too cold to let anyone else in. I had reveled in that comment, feeling the power of being envied for once by all the girls that Spot had ever taken home with him. I realize now that it was a meaningless comment, untrue like most things people say but I can't help thinking of the boy I had once known, before he was the King of Brooklyn, even after he became the king. The eight year old boy who had taken a beating from some older Queens newsies when they had been mercilessly teasing me, the eleven year old boy that had quietly held me when my dog Molly died. The thirteen year old boy who had beat the hell out of Oscar Delancey for trying to kiss me behind the distribution center. The fifteen year old King of Brooklyn who declared Kat Kelly off limits for any form of retribution from any borough of New York. He couldn't have always been that cruel boy he was tonight, could he have been?

I finally drifted to sleep with these thoughts rolling around in my head and I dreamed as always of Spot.

I was back on the Brooklyn docks with rain pouring down on me and the greasy hands of Charlie and Ollie groping at my clothing. The only difference was this time I felt no fear, only disgust and hatred for the men holding me against my will. It took only a moment to realize my lack of fear was due to knowing beyond a doubt that my knight in shining armor would come for me, would banish these demons and protect me like I was the love of his life. And then he was there, blond hair hanging in his eyes, waving his cane in the air like a sword and demanding the release of his true love.

"Git your goddamn dirty hands off her or forfeit youse lives," Spot yelled like the heroes in my story books did.

The men trembled in the wrath of Brooklyn's king and released me, backing away slowly before breaking into a dead run straight off the docks. Spot pushed his cane through one of his belt loops as he rushed towards me, grabbing me by the waist and pulling me in close to his chest. One off his calloused hands reached up and gently brushed my hair from my face before tenderly cupping my cheek and looking deeply into my eyes.

"My love, my love are you well, did they hurt you? I will kill them for daring to lay a hand on the woman I love," Spot declared passionately.

I sighed and stared into the deep blue eyes seeing the love I had waited so long to see there.

"Spot I will always be well as long as I have you, I love you, I love you, I love you," I declared just as passionately as him, reaching my hands up to pull his handsome face down to mine. His pink lips were less then an inch from mine, his breath fanning out across my face and in just seconds I knew I would feel the love I had wanted so long for.

SPOT

I jerked awake from the dream with sweat pouring off my face and the worn flannel sheets sticking to my chest as I gasped for air. It was pitch black in the room but I could clearly see Kat Kelly's face as if it was still right in front of mine. Her clear green eyes wide and filled with an emotion I barely recognized as love, not the lust I saw in other girls eyes but love for me. It was a foreign sight, love for Spot Conlon but I could still see it in my dark bedroom, I could see the raindrops hanging from her thick eyelashes and her deep pink lips inches from mine whispering words of love to me. God I wanted more, I wanted to know what she tasted like, would she taste as sweet as that strawberry pastry I had stolen days before had tasted? Would she sigh into my mouth murmuring incoherent words of love, would she………

"Da King a Brooklyn have a lil nightmare," Match asked interrupting the thoughts rolling through my mind.

I looked over in Match's direction and glared at him, Kats clear image fading from my minds eye.

"Shud up ya bummer," I spat out, flopping onto my back and rolling over so my back was to him.

What the hell kind of dream was that?