Disclaimer: We do not own newsies. Us being Daydrem, Sketch, Spazz, and Stargazer. But happily, we own oursleves.
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Ashley Conlon, known to her friends as Spazz, woke suddenly, startled out of a contented slumber by a not-so-gentle poke in the ribs.
"Spot, darling, wonderful brother of mine," she growled, eyes still shut, "I'm gonna kill you..."
"Ah, stuff it Ash," Spot Conlon, self proclaimed "king" of the Newsies replied, "Get up. Now." Glancing out the window, Spazz saw that it was still dark.
"Dammit, Spot, ya know we can sleep later 'dan this!" she said angrily, burying her head in the pillow.
"Yeah, yeah... but I need ya ta sell for both us today."
"Uh… why?" Ashley asked, looking up.
"Ah'll tell ya latah, just get up," and he walked out. Grumbling and plotting a thousand hideous revenges, she threw back her tattered blanket, set her feet on the floor, and promptly tripped over her boots. She wasn't called "Spazz" for nothing.
Down on the street, she caught up with Spot long enough to get him to explain.
Sighing, he answered, "We's got a big fight wit Harlem today, so I need you ta sell my papes. Here," and he tossed her two bits.
"An' I suppose you're gonna say I can't come," she said, rolling her eyes.
"O' course you're not! I can't risk yous gettin' hurt an' all!" Spot replied.
"Oh come on, you taught me how to fight! I'm involved in this too! Sort of…!" she turned slightly red remembering. Of course, it hadn't been the only thing that caused the "war," but the incident of her accidentally knocking the Harlem head newsie off the dock sure hadn't helped things.
"No. I need yas ta sell 'da papes anyways; now go!"
Grumbling, she walked up the street to the distribution center, bought her papes, and stalked off. Ashley stuck around the market, selling papers to customers and occasionally snitching something out of one of the stands. Counting her papers and munching on a handful of peanuts, she struggled to think of a way to help Brooklyn. Her rational self told her not to risk Spot's wrath, but she still wanted to be involved. She had always been considered sort of an outsider to the Brooklyn newsie gang, mostly because she was a girl. Finally, she made up her mind; she'd head down in the general direction of the fight, selling her papers as she went. If she finished selling by the time she got there, she'd join. And I can always say I didn't know where the fight was, she thought, and headed to the Harlem/Brookyn boundary. Newsie fights attracted as many people as boxing matches, so Ashley figured there was a good chance of ditching all her papers
Sure enough, a large crowd of people were gathered around the square. Hurriedly selling her last few papes, she ran into the mob. Before she knew it, Ashley was immersed in the fight. A Harlem Newsie came up behind her and got her in a full Nelson. Driving her elbow into his stomach, she spun around and punched him in the jaw. Spot's lessons hadn't been in vain. Before he got up again, she moved on. An hour later, Ashley's luck ran out. Once again, true to her nickname, when stepping backwards from an opponent, she tripped and fell into a corner. The last thing she saw before blacking out was a walking stick whistling towards her head.
"Ash! Come on," a hand was lightly slapping her cheeks.
"Uh?" she sat up rubbing her head; the square was deserted. She looked up and saw Spot standing over her, silhouetted by the sun. "Heh heh, hey Spot." Spot's relieved face clouded and he started berating her.
"I told ya ta stay away from here!" he yelled, furious. "You could 'a been killed!"
"So?" Ashley said defiantly, picking her cap off the ground and dusting it off, "You can't tell me what to do."
"Sure I can, I'm ya brother, now get back to da lodgin' house now!"
Later that night in the Newsies lodging house, Spot was still lecturing her. "If I can't trust ya to stay out of dis stuff, I'm gonna have to send ya somewheres else!"
"WHAT! You can't send me away!"
"Sure I can, and I will. Tomorrow, you're goin' to Manhattan. Jackie-boy'll send someone ta pick you up," and he left the room, leaving no time for discussion. Both of them went to bed mad that night.
The next morning, Ashley stalked down the stairs, asking sourly as she walked around the corner, "So Spot, dearest brother of mine, who's da babysitter?"
"He is," Spot answered, pointing, and suddenly, she didn't feel quite as reluctant as she had before. A tall, blonde young man with an eye patch on his left eye was standing there looking uncomfortable. Looking down at her dingy clothes, she felt a little uncomfortable herself.
"Erm, hi. I'm Kid Blink. Nice ta meet ya." he said, smiling nervously, thinking, What am I doing here? This is Spot Conlon's sister! Something's gonna happen to her an' he'll send his minions after me or something…
"Nice to meet ya too Blink, people call me Spazz." She stepped forward and tripped on her untied shoelace. "Heh…sorry."
"Well, um, I guess we should be going then."
"Yeah, bye Spot."
Walking across the Brooklyn Bridge, Ashley kept up a stream of meaningless patter about how every rock, plank, and shoelace was out to get her. "An' then they're gonna finally stop toying with me an' make me fall off a pier an' drown or somethin'…" she was finishing. They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.
"Well," Blink said, clearing his throat, "Why don't ya tell me a bit more about yoself?"
"Ya mean, other than the fact that I'll die young out of clumsiness?" she asked jokingly.
He chuckled, "Yeah…I figured that…" "You sure you want ta hear me ramble some more?" she asked ruefully, but at his nod of assent, she continued talking. "Spot's and my parents died when we were kids, they caught some disease on the way here from Ireland," she continued, "and we've been living in da lodgin' house sellin' papes in Brooklyn ever since. Got dis from da experience." she said, showing him the long scar running down her cheek. "I got mugged fo' my pape money one day. Dat's when Spot started giving me fighting lessons, not tha' he lets me use them." She scowled at the cobblestones.
"Heh… yeah, I hear that's why you're goin' ta Manhattan." He said, giving her a half-smile. "So, yous said your name was Spazz right?"
"Yeah..."
"What's yo real name?" he asked, curious.
"Oh... Ashley."
"Hmm, I think I like dat one bettah. Can I call yah Ash?" Blink asked shyly.
"'Course! Spot does."
Finally, they arrived in Manhattan. The pair strolled down the street, exchanging small talk. On the way to the distribution center, they passed a tall, brown-haired newsie and a girl in a pink skirt.
"Hey! Skitts!" Blink shouted. The newsie turned around, grinning.
"Hi... and who's dis?" Skittery asked, looking at Ashley.
"Oh, dis's Spot's sister, Ashley."
"But you can call me Spazz if ya want," she cut in.
"Well, heya Spazz! Dis here's Sage," she waved shyly. "Well, I bettah be goin', you should hurry and get some papes while dey still have 'em."
"Alright, see ya," Blink said. And the two couples set off again. Of course, when Blink and Spazz finally made it to the distribution center, they were out.
"Tough luck!" Mr. Weasel shouted from his office, "You shoulda come sooner!" and he disappeared behind his desk.
"So... you wanna go ta Medda's?" Blink asked.
"Who's?" Ashley asked, confused.
"A vaudeville theatre, she lets da newsies in free."
"Yeah, sure, I've never been to a show."
"Really? Well you're about ta get a treat."
Blink was right, the show was great, and Ashley got great amusement from seeing him swing off the box, singing High Times Hard Times. However, when he was climbing back up, his foot slipped. Leaping forward, she caught his hand and hauled him back in. Once again, however, she (of course) fell and they both went sprawling on the floor.
"Sorry!" Ashley said, blushing and clutching her side laughing more out of nerves then anything at yet another mishap. "But I warned you earlier right?"
"Yeah," he said, slightly pale, but laughing as well. "Come on, let's get outta here."
They both walked in silence to the newsie lodging house. After showing her where to sign in, Blink escorted to her room.
"Here ya go, Kloppman always keeps a place open fo' da last minute patrons," he said, jokingly pompous-sounding.
"Thanks," Ashley said, turning to face him. The light behind him silhouetted his profile for an instant, casting shadows across his features. On an impulse, Blink leaned in, kissed her quickly on the cheek, and ran out and down the stairs, coloring. Smiling slightly, Ashley shut her door.
The next morning she woke up early; she had been thrown off by Spot's early wake-up call the day before. Ashley took her time getting dressed, then strolled down the stairs. She was caught by surprise by the loud and not altogether unpleasant chorus of all the newsboys. She watched in amusement as some of the earlier risers ran, jumped, and skipped out the door. After a few minutes, she saw Blink heading out.
"Hey Blink wait up would ya?" she asked hopping off the third step to the floor, "I thought you were gonna leave witout me fo' a minute."
"Er, well... About last night..."
"Don't worry 'bout it," Ashley said, flushing a little.
"But…"
"Really, don't worry!" she interrupted, smiling, "Ta tell ya da truth..." she broke off.
They started up the street in a companionable silence, stopping quickly for a piece of bread from the usual assemblage of nuns then heading on. As Blink slipped his hand into hers, Ashley found herself thinking she might be making many more trips to Manhattan in the future.
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