July 28, 1899

Day 8 of the strike

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Charlotte slowly opened her eyes. Something had woken her up.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

She looked over toward her window and saw someone crouched on the fire escape.

She startled and gasped loudly, but covered her mouth, not wanting to wake Aunt Mae and Uncle Ben. Once her eyes focused, she saw that it was Fire. She crawled out of bed, putting her robe on, and walked to the window. She opened it.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Spot said you're kind of nurse, right?"

Charlotte hesitated. "Not really."

"Well, we need you. Spot was soakin' some scabs, but they had thugs waiting nearby. He's cut up pretty bad."

"Oh my gosh!" said Charlotte. "Wait for me out front. I'll be right down."

Fire nodded and quietly crept back down the fire escape.

Charlotte closed the window and rushed about her room, getting dressed. She had no idea how she was going to help Spot, but she was confident the little help she could provide was more than what the newsies were doing for him.

Once she was dressed, she snuck into the hallway and got into the first aid kit she always kept prepared. She had little more than a few bandages, but they would help. She quietly crept through the house and walked out the front door.

She flew down the front steps and met up with Fire. "Why are you boys just now coming to get me?" she asked. "You should've gotten me the minute it happened."

"We just found him," said Fire. "He was laying in an alley for a while."

At that, Charlotte began to walk faster. Any injuries that kept Spot from walking on his own were bound to be bad. She saw a hansom cab coming down the street and her hand shot up to hail it.

The cab pulled over.

"Poplar Street in Brooklyn," Charlotte said as she got in. "As fast as you can, please."

The driver nodded and shook the reins.

"How bad is it?" she asked once the cab was moving.

"He's pretty bruised," said Fire. "He's black and blue all over. They definitely had brass knuckles on them. He's got a cut on his head, and he keeps holding his side."

Charlotte nodded. "Might be a broken rib. I hope nothing is damaged internally." She looked at him. "I thought the boys got arrested after the rally last night."

"The reporter sprung 'em," said Fire.

An hour passed before they finally rolled off the Brooklyn Bridge and turned onto Poplar Street. Charlotte paid the cabbie and they rushed into the lodging house.


"Who is she?" asked Violet as Charlotte walked into the room.

"She's the nurse, dummy," said Blade.

"Don't call me dummy, you moron!"

Violet turned her attention back to Spot. Charlotte watched Violet hold Spot's hand and smooth his hair. She furrowed her brow at the intimate gestures between the two of them.

Charlotte locked eyes with Spot. They didn't say anything to each other, but Spot could see the hurt and anger take over Charlotte's eyes. Violet looked between the two, narrowing her eyes slightly.

Charlotte took a deep breath and sat on the other side of Spot. The boys already had cleaned Spot up the best they could. Charlotte inspected the cut on his head and quietly bandaged it up.

"You'll need to make sure this stays clean," Charlotte said to Violet. "Wash it every day, and change the bandages when they bleed through. I'll leave some extra bandages."

"What about his chest?" asked Violet.

Charlotte looked at Spot's bruised abdomen and ran her hand over his ribs, gently pushing.

Violet watched her as she ran her hands over Spot's bare chest. Violet carefully watched Spot's expression.

"Anything hurt?"

"No more than a usual soaking," said Spot.

"That's good," said Charlotte. "Means nothing is broken."

She moved a cloth from his side were a small gash was bleeding.

"If this is what you look like, I'd hate to see the other guys."

"I don't walk around with knives like some of Pulitzer's thugs."

"You should," said Violet. "Of all the things for you to ignore my brother on, that shouldn't've been one of them."

Charlotte cleaned the wound - not being quite as gentle as she might've been with anyone else - and bandaged him up again. "Same instructions for this wound," Charlotte said to Violet. "Keep it clean and change it often."

Charlotte felt Spot watching her, but she refused to meet his eyes.

"Well, you're all set," Charlotte said, standing up. "If it keeps bleeding, come and get me. It shouldn't need sewing up, but if it does, I can…try." She walked into the washroom to wash her hands.

"Pretty simple, really," Charlotte called from the washroom. Once she dried her hands, she walked back out. "Next time you don't even need to send for me."

Spot watched her intensely, knowing she was angry. "Char…"

"Take care." With that, Charlotte grabbed her bag and walked back downstairs.

Violet looked down at Spot. "You know her?"

"Sorta," said Spot. "Childhood friend."