The struggle against Pulitzer and Hearst continued. The newsies focused solely on the steady extermination of delivery boys, rather than attempting to fight off the guards at the newsstands. Fortunately, none of the Manhattan kids ran into Snitch, Skittery, or Snipeshooter again that week, though several Brooklyn boys had reported that the three renegade newsboys had still been carrying out delivery services. But for Lunch Money, Spot and Racetrack, the fight to keep newsies on the streets of New York was not the conflict taking center stage. The problem foremost in their minds was the problem they were putting all their energies into pretending it didn't exist.
The next couple of days Lunch Money and Spot completely avoided each other, preferring to deal with the tension by not dealing with it at all. Spot and Racetrack weren't on the best of terms either, both too uncomfortable and angry to try to strike up a conversation. Probably the most obvious feud was that between Racetrack and Lunch Money. The Higgins siblings normally go along quite well, despite their occasional disagreements, so it did not go unnoticed when they were openly hostile towards each other. Jack and the other Manhattan boys were positively mystified by the angry glares that passed between Lunch Money and Racetrack and the lack of words they exchanged.
One person was quite pleased with the turn of events. That, of course, was none other than Ritz Barkley, who was practically giddy that Lunch Money and Spot were no longer speaking. They'd stopped arguing, they'd stopped "flirting". It was absolutely torturous for Lunch Money to watch Ritz so cocky, strutting around like the queen of Brooklyn. Ritz obviously thought that the confrontation between Ritz and Lunch Money had scared Lunch Money off, and was now . Ritz wasted much of her breath scoffing in Lunch Money's direction and making snide comments about what a wimp Lunch Money was. It took all of Lunch Money's self-control not to pound Ritz straight through the ground. Or at least admit to Ritz that she and Spot had kissed on the fire escape. Then maybe Ritz would die of jealousy and Lunch Money would at least be rid of the darling girl.
But Lunch Money didn't say anything. And she shocked herself by not even trying to put Ritz into a body cast. She just took the abuse from Ritz, often accompanied by snickers from Tease and Rodeo, hoping if she ignored them, they would lose interest.
It was days before anything noteworthy happened. By that time, it was mid-December and the snow had lost all of it's magic, now brown and muddy in the streets. The temperatures continued to drop, and the newsies were thankful they at least had a lodging house to stay in at night. Therefore, it didn't seem the best idea to spend the following Thursday afternoon playing on the pier.
No one was swimming of course (none of them were quite that insane), but the Brooklyn newsies had a nice time on their usual stomping ground. Most of the wooden planks were completely frozen over and they had to tread carefully for fear of slipping on the slick surface. It snows on and off, off most of the time, thank goodness. All of the newsies were thoroughly sick of wading through piles of slush in the streets.
Lunch Money, Jack and Mush were the only newsies to accompany the Brooklyn newsies to the pier. Blink and Boots wanted to stay behind with Crutchy, and Racetrack (who was of course avoiding Lunch Money) opted to stay in the lodging house as well. Relieved to be finished fighting delivery boys for the day, Lunch Money and Mush spent the afternoon gleefully skating haphazardly across the frozen surface of the pier, twirling and skidding and often losing their balance.
"So, Lunch, how're things goin' wit' Spot." Mush asked, trying to hide a broad grin. Lunch Money slipped, falling hard on the ice. She sat up, rubbing her elbow.
"You been talking ta Race?" She asked angrily. Ooh, if Racetrack had squealed, Lunch Money would never forgive him. She knew she would simply die of shame of her friends ever found out that she had kissed Spot.
"No…" Mush said slowly, confused by Lunch Money's reaction, "Why?"
"Oh, ya know, Racetrack's just been paranoid lately." Lunch Money was impressed with her own quick lie. She was getting much better at lying. No poker face-- ha! Mush looked skeptical, but let it pass.
"Anyway, you and Spot?" Mush asked again eagerly.
"There ain't a 'me and Spot'" Lunch Money snapped, her temper rising and she got back to her feet, "Why the hell does everybody keep asking about that? In case ya haven't noticed, we hate each otheh!" Lunch Money glared at Mush, who smiled apologetically.
"Okay, Lunch, shh. Calm down."
"I'se calm!" Lunch Money lied feebly. Were she and Spot really that obvious? After all, Nix had figured it out. And Ritz had figured it out. But this is Mush. Lunch Money argued, Mush! Everythin's about love with him. He is always suspectin' romance between people… for a while he even thought there might be something goin' on between Jack and David, for God's sake. Mush decided to change the subject at that point, and for another hour or so, they and the Brooklyn newsies amused themselves.
It was getting dark when a rambunctious game, involving the chasing and capturing of Feivel (who had stolen a pocket watch from one of the older boys.), started to interest most of the newsies. The little girl laughed and shrieked curses that would shock a sailor, nimbly dodging out the clutches of the other newsies.
"Comin' t'rough! Comin' t'rough!" She cried, running smack into Lunch Money, who absorbed the shock of the impact by falling once again. Feivel went down too, but she immediately hoped back up and started running, off the pier and into the streets.
"Ya can't catch me!" Feivel called in a singsong to the others, swinging the golden watch around on it's chain. She very juvenilely poked her tongue out at the newsies and dashed off, pursued by the Brooklyn newsies.
"Here." A hand up was offered to Lunch Money. She took it, thinking it was Mush.
"Thanks" She said, once on her feet again. It wasn't Mush who had helped her up. It was Spot, of course. Who else would it be?
Lunch Money looked around. Mush had disappeared. As had Jack. As had the rest of the Brooklyn newsies. Dammit Feivel, ya had ta be a thief. Everyone had to run after you, leaving us alone. Lunch cursed to herself. It was the first time Spot and Lunch Money had spoken since their secret kiss. Or almost secret kiss. It was bound to be uncomfortable.
"So." Spot cast around awkwardly for something to say, "Er, how's your foot?" he asked, attempting to decrease the tension. Lunch Money answered, grateful to have something to say.
"It's good, it's good." She nodded, "It's pretty much healed up. Just a scar now."
"That's good… 'cos it looked pretty gross when you first got cut." Spot grinned, remembering trying to examine her foot in that alley, while she was trying to kick him away.
"Well, a lot a' the gore was lost when Crutchy took out the glass." Lunch Money winced at the memory. That removal had been agonizing, "Speakin' a' Crutchy, do ya know how he's doin'? I think the otheh boys are trying to keep quiet about what kinda shape he's in and I haven't seen him fa' days." Spot made a face, leaning against one of the ladders that led up to the higher levels of the pier.
"He's been betteh." Spot shrugged, "And he's been worse. He was able to get around betteh yesterday, but me an' Jack though he oughta keep off his feet fa' anudder day. Tomorrow he'll be back." Spot frowned, as though if he'd had it his way, Crutchy would not be going out to soak delivery boys in his current condition.
"Well," Lunch Money said, "At least he's doin' betteh. He was a wreck last time I saw him."
"Yeah." Spot opened his mouth as though he was going to add something else, but changed his mind and instead asked, smirking, "Are we havin' an actual conversation?"
Lunch Money tried not to smile. "I think we might be. We ain't exchanged insults all day."
"We must be growin' up." Spot caught Lunch Money's eye, and they started laughing. It probably wasn't even that funny, what they had said, but Spot and Lunch Money laughed like it was the funniest thing they'd ever heard.
"Spot!" A harsh voice rent the air, causing both Lunch Money and Spot to turn around, looking for the source of the voice. Ritz, apparently Spot's personal stalker, was making her careful way towards them, taking tiny mincing steps over the icy pier. Lunch Money couldn't help but notice she was dressed up nicer than usual. Clothes probably bought with the money Ritz had made sleeping around Brooklyn.
"Spot, come on, now, Jack and Tease are already waiting for us." She called sweetly. It was true; at the end of the pier was Jack, his arm around Tease, unmistakable with her flaming red hair. Lunch Money and Spot glanced at each other.
"I did tell Jack and them that I'd go wit' them tonight." He said chagrinned. Lunch Money just shrugged. "I'll see ya tomorrow?" Spot asked hopefully.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'll see ya." Lunch Money said briskly, avoiding his eyes, "I shoulda gone back a while ago... Race'll be wonderin' where I am."
"See ya, Lunch Money." Ritz shot her a smug look before turning to Spot, "Oh, Spot, could ya gimme a hand on this ice? I'm so afraid I'll slip and fall…"
Lunch Money tuned the rest of the conversation out. She had heard about as much of it as she could stand. She turned around, looking out over the river, or at least what she could see of the river in the dark. With her back to the streets, Lunch Money never saw the deeply regretful look on Spot's face as he spared a last glance at her.
Once the party had rounded the corner, Lunch Money did not go back to the lodging house. At least not right away. Instead, she sat on the edge of the pier, her legs dangling over the end. So Spot was going on a date with Ritz. Of course. She'd been chasing him; he let himself be caught. And why not? Spot and Lunch Money weren't a couple. They weren't even close to being a couple. Spot was free to date whoever he wanted. It's not like I even have feelings for him, Lunch Money insisted to herself, Why should I care? But she did care. Yet as she sat there, forcing tears to remain inside her eyes, she came to the sudden, cold realization that everything Racetrack had warned her about Spot was absolutely true.