My name is Sage Matthews, and not too long ago my life changed completely. It's all because of one boy. One boy who just so happens to be a newsy. And that one newsy just so happens to be the leader of Brooklyn. And the leader of Brooklyn just so happens to be Spot Conlon.
Dear journal,
Have you ever felt lost? Like something was there, but you couldn't find it? Well, that's how I felt before I came to Brooklyn. I still have nightmares of my past, and they just seem to haunt me. Not that I'm complaining about my life, I just feel different.
I've started a new life, but it's harder than it seems. I've got complete access to my mother's inheritance, which is good, but I still like selling papes every morning. Since ever the fight between the newsies and my uncle's men, things began to change. I can't explain it, really, but I'm trying to understand.
Jack and Scout visit as much as they can and I can't understand the relationship Spot and I have built. I feel more comfortable around him, but something is still different. I can't tell if we are friends or something more. Well, whatever it is I hope I can find out.
-Sage
I closed my journal and stared down at it. I've been writing in it since ever I got out of the hospital about five months ago. Maybe it was longer, I can't tell. I stashed my journal under the loose floorboard in my room and walked to the door.
I silently opened it and walked out into the quiet hallway. They weren't up yet. I grinned to myself as I crept over to the boy's room and opened the door. I peaked in and watched the sleeping newsies. Such lazy boys.
I walked into the room and looked around for that little bell. Where is it? I finally found it by the windowsill and picked it up. Without hesitation I shook the bell and it made an eerie dinging sound. The boys groaned, and some of them fell out of their beds.
"Come on, boys," I said. "Get up!" I set the bell down and walked to the middle of the room. I stared at Spot's bunk. He had the covers pulled over his head, and the pillow as well. I rolled my eyes and walked to the side of the bunk. I shook Spot until he got aggravated and threw his pillow at me.
"Hey, watch it!" I said, catching the pillow. Spot groaned and pulled the sheets off his head.
"Go away, Matthews," he muttered.
"How late did you guys stay up?" I asked, putting the pillow on the bed. Some of the boys were getting up now, and didn't seem to care that they were changing in front of me.
"Dey stayed up until dawn," Skip said from behind me. I turned around to find him fully dressed with a cup of water in his hand.
"No wonder you guys are so tired," I laughed.
"Shut up," Spot mumbled from under his sheets.
"Come on Spot, you got to sell the morning paper," I told him. Spot sighed in frustration and groggily got out of bed. He was still wearing his clothes from last night, and looked like he died and came back to life. He sent me a glare, which didn't last long. I knew he couldn't stay mad at me.
I sent him a smile and walked for the door. I got a few "hellos," and "good mornings," from the ones who didn't seem to be too sleepy. I walked down the stairs and to the kitchen. Thanks to me there was actual food in it other than bread. I spent some of my mother's inheritance money and bought some decent food for these boys.
I quickly ate breakfast and waited patiently for the others to look alive. Usually Spot would be the one waking me up, and dragging me down to the docks to teach me how to swim. I guess I get the day off from drowning.
Some of the boys came downstairs and ate some breakfast before heading out. Spot turned into the main room, dark circles under his eyes.
"Well, looks like the dead can walk," I said. Spot pulled his cap onto his head and pulled his suspenders over his shoulders.
"Shut up," he said. Spot was too good to eat breakfast, so the both of us headed out the door and to the distribution center.
I still didn't see the use in me selling papes, but I still found it to be quite enjoyable. The main thing I kept my eyes open for were strange men. You know the ones who come up and offer to take you on a tour through an alleyway. Yeah, I've been offered far too many times. And you know what my answer was? Well, I didn't have enough time to answer because Spot beating the living hell out of them was a good enough answer.
The good news was that the Irving Hall was rebuilt, and Medda continued to do her shows. So everyone once and awhile we'd all head over to Manhattan and hang out at Medda's.
Every time I crossed paths with another newsy, they'd ask the same question: "How are youse and Spot?" I was actually getting quite tired of this because it wasn't any of their business. Spot never asked me to be his girl, and I wasn't sure if he just assumed I was. The last time he kissed me was the day we threw the key into the river.
Spot pulled me out of my thoughts when he stopped in his tracks and I ran into him.
"Hey, why'd you stop?" I asked. I then peered over his shoulder and stared at the two newsies before us.
"Heya Spot," one said. I recognized them to be Life and Death; unusual names for newsies, but whatever. They were Harlem newsies.
"What do youse want?" Spot growled.
"We's is jus' sendin youse a message from Lance," Death said.
"Well I don't wanna hear what dat bum has ta say!" Spot spat. I watched as Life and Death walked up to the Brooklyn leader. Spot stood in front of me so as if to protect me. Do I look weak to you? Okay, nobody answer that question.
"Accordin ta Lance it's important," Life said. Spot narrowed his eyes as Death held out a piece of paper. Spot snatched it from his hands and shoved it in his pocket.
"Now get lost!" Spot hissed. The boys glanced at me before turning around and heading in a different direction.
"What do you think Lance wants?" I asked. Spot glared at the boys as they walked out of sight.
"I dunno, but it can't be good," he said. Spot then resumed walking in the direction of the distribution center. I followed suit, deep in thought.
What could Lance possibly want? If it were important then why didn't he come here himself? He's probably afraid of Spot or something.
I stopped thinking as Spot and I walked up the narrow ramp. There wasn't much of a line, so in no time I was up next. Spot waited for me as I bought fifty papes.
"So, where we selling today?" I asked, walking beside Spot. He glanced down at me.
"I hafta go somewhere," he said. "I asked Skip ta sell with ya." I gave Spot a confused look as he bent down and kissed my cheek.
"Stay outta trouble," he said. He turned around and walked in a different direction as I watched him leave.
"Ready?" Skip asked from behind me. I shrugged and followed him out into the streets of Brooklyn.
My relationship with Spot Conlon started out with just friendship, and that led us to here. I couldn't explain what "here" was, because Spot was always too busy dealing with Harlem. His only sign of affection was a small peck on the cheek. I didn't know what it meant exactly, but I guess it was a good start. Rushing off into a relationship with someone you've known for only more than a half a year wasn't always too good.
I've been living with the newsies since last November. It was June now, so that counts up to seven months I think.
I jumped slightly when I heard Skip yell out a headline, and then I remembered I was supposed to be selling papes.
I studied the sucky headlines before yelling them out to the public. A few people rushed up and bought a pape, and then quickly shoved a penny in my face. Wow, people are oh so generous nowadays.
I wanted so bad to go over to Manhattan, but I couldn't. Spot made me promise not to go over there without him accompanying me. I guess Harlem's threats had everyone scared.
I wasn't too worried about Harlem at the time. Thanks to them morons I barely got to talk to Spot because he had to go take care of "business." Scout told me just a few days ago that Jack had been having the same problems.
"Why won't they jus' leave us alone?" she had asked me. I answered with a shrug, and continued scribbling down in my journal.
Ah, my journal. How I love it so. I laughed at my thoughts and sold a few more papes. Since the headlines were dead today, I only sold about twenty.
I counted the change in my hand and decided it was enough to buy me lunch. I could just go and get money out of the bank, but I liked earning my share. It made me feel proud, and less weak. People feared newsies, which meant they'd also fear me. Although some people just didn't care.
I walked into the diner in front of me and decided that I'd order something cheap. I sat at the table where Spot and I would usually sit and waited patiently for a waiter to come.
I ordered a sandwich and a glass of water. It should hold me up until dinner time. The waiter scribbled down my order and disappeared.
I had explained to Spot about my uncle having people stalk me, and it made me kind of paranoid. I looked around the small café and when I was sure I wasn't being watched, I turned my attention to the person who just took a seat across from me.
"Hey," I said to Spot.
"Wanna go over ta Manhattan after lunch?" Spot asked. I shrugged, and I knew that Spot could sense that I really wanted to go. The waiter, who was also waiting on Spot and I, noticed Spot and asked the cook to get another sandwich.
After about another five minutes the waiter brought our lunch. Spot and I ate in a comfortable silence and watched other newsies enter and order lunch.
"Why is Harlem bothering us?" I finally asked. Spot raised his eyes as he took a sip of the water in front of him.
"Dey is jus' a bunch of dumbasses," he said. I laughed slightly.
"That doesn't answer my question," I told him. Spot shrugged and bit into his sandwich. I knew that I wasn't going to get an answer out of him so I continued to eat lunch.
After Spot and I finished lunch, we put some change down onto the table and left the restaurant.
"So, why are we going to Manhattan?" I asked as Spot slipped his arm over my shoulders. I wasn't tall enough to do the same so I slipped mine around his waist. We probably looked like best friends to everyone who walked by, but as far as I knew we were.
"I need ta talk ta Jacky-boy," Spot told me as we headed for the Brooklyn Bridge. "And I know dat youse wanna see Scout." I smiled to myself as we finally reached the Bridge. There were people everywhere today, and many didn't seem too nice. Some would give us mean looks, and Spot didn't seem to care. I, on the other hand, sent the same look back at them.
There were still things I wanted to ask Spot, but I guess they'll just have to wait.
Author note: Blah, blah, blah. This is chapter one: WOOHOO! Anyways, I don't know what happens next so we just have to wait.