The rest of the afternoon was spent merrily terrorizing the streets of Brooklyn. Only when it grew dark did they realize it was time to head off home. After first making a final visit to the alley on 86th street to amass their pathetic collections of extra clothing, the eight newsies arrived at the lodging house. It was past suppertime by the time they'd reach the old brick building, and most of the Brooklyn newsies had already returned from defacing newsstands, many sporting cuts and bruises.
They entered the lodging house to find a dimly lit lobby, with a high counter near the far wall, with a little old man working diligently behind it. Lunch Money looked around; it wasn't too much different than Kloppman's place. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Spot led the way up a flight of rickety stairs. Jack and Racetrack, both cracking jokes and laughing at each other, as usual, followed him. Next came Boots, silently wary of his surroundings; then was Mush, happily assisting Crutchy up the stairs. Blink and Lunch Money took up the rear.
"In heah." Spot told them, once he'd reached the top of the steps. He pushed a door open. The door was once painted white, but had since been stained by grubby newsboy hands and chipped to reveal a rather nondescript wood grain. Spot held the door ajar for the other newsies. The boys filed in, claiming bunks and tossing their stuff down. Lunch Money started to follow Blink into the dorm, but Spot stretched one arm across the doorframe, blocking her way.
"Where d'ya think your goin'?"
Lunch Money rolled her eyes. The answer seemed pretty obvious to her. "Into the dorm, what does it look like, genius?"
"Yeah, well, in Brooklyn we'se civilized." Spot smirked, "Goil's room, up the stairs, foirst door on your left." He instructed. Behind him, the Manhattan boys exchanged nervous glances. Lunch Money, rooming with other girl newsies? How would that work out? Without another word, Lunch Money turned away from the boys and scaled the flight. She arrived on the third floor, apparently the only living thing in the corridor. It was sort of creepy; she was used to boarding houses being noisy and loud and full of activity. She could hear the boys on the floor below her running around and fighting each other. On the girl's floor, it was comparatively mellow.
Girl newsies. Ugh. Lunch Money had had contact with them, of course, but she greatly preferred the company of newsboys. Racetrack didn't like her hanging around with them either; more often than not, newsgirls ended up being baby prostitutes, and Racetrack would have given up gambling before he let his little sister sell her body on the streets of New York. And thus, she had come to live at the Manhattan Boys Lodging House, rather than the apartment the Manhattan newsgirls shared. The apartment often nicknamed the Manhattan Whore House. Not to say that all girl newsies were tramps; Lunch Money had met a handful of girls who were actually interested in selling papers. But they annoyed her with their prissy ways. Or worse, they were other tomboys who actually though they were tougher than Lunch Money.
Lunch Money pushed open the door that Spot had specified, not bothering to knock. This door was also yellowed with age and use, but was considerably less worn, Lunch Money noticed as she shut it behind her. The room was the basic dorm: a plain space filled with bunks. There were three large windows on the back wall, and the floor was strewn with underwear and old unsold papes. It was much smaller than the dormitory back at Kloppman's, understandably, as Lunch Money only saw six other occupants.
One girl (about Lunch Money's own age) was tall, with hair the exact shade of a ripe banana; she seemed to be the dominant personality of the group. She sat cross-legged on one of the upper bunks, speaking imperiously to two girls who were wide-eyed, hanging onto her every word. In the bunk beneath the blonde girl was a younger one (eight or nine years old, at best), already asleep under the thin cotton blankets. The remaining two girls (a mousy, pale skinned eleven-year-old and a intelligent-looking Asian girl of around thirteen.) had a game of cards going in the far corner, removed from the center of things.
"Hey, I know who you are." The blonde girl leapt off her bunk, narrowing her eyes as Lunch Money entered the room, "You'se that Higgins goil Spot had ta rescue a coupla weeks ago." Lunch Money felt ill all of a sudden. But she did notice the obvious emphasis the blonde girl had placed on the word 'had'. She didn't sound pleased about Spot helping Lunch Money, and her jealously couldn't have been clearer.
"Ya heard about that?"
"Please, everyone heard about that." The blonde girl laughed. The two girls sitting on the floor quickly laughed along with her.
"I'm Ritz Barkley." She told Lunch Money sticking out a hand, "This is Rodeo," (Here she indicated a small dishwater blonde-haired girl) "And Tease." (An older, girl with feiry red hair and freckles nodded.)
"Lunch Money Higgins." Lunch Money introduced herself before spitting into her hand to shake Ritz's hand. Ritz gave a disgusted little shriek and drew her hand back quickly.
"What? Don't tell me ya never saw a spit-shake."
"Of course I have, I don't live under a rock." Ritz said giving Lunch Money a scathing look, "But I never saw a goil spit-shake before."
"Yeah, well I ain't neveh saw a goil weah trousers neitheh." The girl named Rodeo laughed.
"I'm glad ya think it's funny." Lunch Money said coolly, pushing past them to drop her bundle of clothes on an empty bunk. She was uncomfortably aware that all the girls (excluding the one that was asleep, of course) were staring at her.
"So, you an' Spot Conlon." Ritz kept on talking. Did this girl not take a hint? "Too bad ya can't properly pay him back." she waggled her eyebrows suggestively. Behind this transparant, friendly facade, Ritz's eyes watched Lunch Money keenly.
"Yeah, I'll 'properly' pay him back one'a these days… with a good punch in the mouth." Lunch Money muttered more to herself than to Ritz. Ritz let out a scream of mirth that made the hairs on the back of Lunch Money's neck stand up on end.
"No, silly goil, I was talkin' about sex." Ritz rolled her eyes at Lunch Money's naivete, "How that would be the perfect payment. I mean, he saved your life, and you clearly find him attractive."
Lunch Money literally gagged. She genuinely thought for a moment that she was going to vomit all over the floor. "I do not! I hate Spot Conlon. I hate him!" Lunch Money told Ritz emphatically, "That's disgustin'." Words did not express her utter revulsion.
Ritz seemed very satisfied by this answer. "What?" she giggled, "He's good in bed. But he's mine, thank you very much, so I'd keep out from under him."
For some inexplicable reason, this last sentence stopped Lunch Money cold. Ritz and Spot? Now she really was going to throw up. Lunch Money was experiencing an emotion, at first she thought it could be jealousy, but she quickly convinced herself it was just the image of Spot and Ritz together that had her stomach turning.
"You and Spot?" Lunch Money asked incredulously, "You're seein' Spot Conlon?"
"Not officially, no." Ritz admitted, "But we do get togetheh often enough. And he knows he's the only boy I don't charge."
"Whaddya mean he's the only boy you—Oh." Comprehension dawned across Lunch Money's face, "You'se prostitutes? All of you?"
"Hell no!" A voice came from the corner. It was the Asian girl who had been playing cards earlier, "We are not all whores, thank ya very much! Just those three sluts."
"Al'ight calm down, Nix." Rodeo gave the Asian girl a scornful look. Lunch Money spared Rodeo a glance, then performed a double take.
"You're a prostitute? What are you, ten?"
"I'm twelve, actually. Almost thirteen." Rodeo snapped defensively, "And I prefer the term 'entertainer'."
"You gotta be kiddin' me." Lunch Money moaned, collapsing onto her bunk, "Man, if me bruddah knew what kinda whores I'm roomin' wit'…"
"Your bruddah's Racetrack Higgins, right?" Tease asked curiously.
"Yeah. Please don't tell me he's one'a your custumers." Lunch Money wasn't sure how more of this she could handle.
"Nah, don't worry, I ain't never done Manhattan newsie. Yet." She giggled, "I do like the look of that Jack Kelly, though."
Lunch Money made face, "Well, that'll please him. He just broke up wit' Sarah Jacobs, and I think he's lookin' ta get laid. He ain't gonna pay fa' it though."
"Oh, we neveh charge the newsboys." Rodeo laughed. "We do them fa' free."
"Charming." Lunch Money muttered, quite tired and revolted of the conversation.
"Ain't it?" The girl called Nix spoke up from the corner, collecting a generous heap of coins from her friend. The younger mousy-haired girl (freshly robbed of all her dough) reshuffled the cards before returned them to their case, before climbing into bed herself, settling down to listen to the older girls talk. "Ain't it the nastiest thing ya eveh heard?" Nix continued, ignoring the affronted looks Ritz, Tease and Rodeo were giving her.
"It's a disgrace to newsgoils, in my opinion. Carryin' on like bastard sluts."
"Shuddit, Nix." Rodeo growled, "You all actin' like you'se so much betteh and smarteh than us."
"I am smarteh than you." Nix told Rodeo point-blank. Lunch Money suppressed a laugh. This Nix girl seemed impervious to the other girls insults and fake personalities. Her demeanor was utterly calm, but her words all carried a certain air of vindictiveness and intellect.
"Nuh-uh." Rodeo whined intelligently.
"Ya ain't provin' ya point very well." Nix said, looking suddenly disinterested in carrying on the discussion. "I'm goin' ta bed now. Maybe by tomorrow you'll a' worked out what I've said, and you can have your retort ready." With Lunch Money marveling at Nix's unending lack of temper, Nix climbed into the bunk above Lunch Money and curled herself under the sheets.
"Anyway." Ritz loudly opined, disgusted with Nix, "Like I was tellin' ya, Lunch, Spot Conlon is quite worth your while. Although, I'd like ta think I've got a bit of a claim on him." She giggled again. Lunch Money made a face. What did she mean by 'a claim' on Spot? Just sex? Or were they actually involved in a relationship? Neither answer suited Lunch Money. Why do you care? She asked herself irately, it doesn't matter to you what's going on between Ritz and Spot.
"Ritz," Nix's voice came from overhead, "You can stop braggin' about sleepin' wit' Spot. We'se all knows you'se is in love wit' him; ya don't need ta declare it ta every goil who comes within a four-mile radius of Brooklyn. None a' us care who you're fuckin'. Don't mind her, Lunch," she added to Lunch Money, "She's crazy posessive of Spot; she's paranoid about all the new goils. It's kinda pathetic." Nix raised her voice for Ritz's benefit, "When we all know Spot Conlon will neveh fall in love wit' anyone. Least of all some whore."
Ritz folded her arms and gave Nix a murderous glare, but no one spoke after that. Tease and Rodeo both gave Nix contemptuous sneers then began changing into their nightdresses. Lunch Money, however, stayed awake and dressed for a long time after the lights had gone out. Images and thoughts swirled around her brain, Spot Conlon still a prominent element, but he was now joined by Lunch Money's ponderings of the new complication that was Ritz Barkley.