The next morning, Lunch Money was awakened several hours earlier than she would have liked. It was so early, it wasn't so much morning as the middle of the night. The sound of the door shutting, combined with the sounds of someone walking noisily across the dormitory and then an unnecessarily loud rummaging through one of the dresser drawers, caused Lunch Money to roll over and crack an eye open. It was Ritz.
"Ritz, whadadya doin'?" Nix asked sleepily, alerting Lunch Money that she was not the only one to awake at Ritz's inconsiderately loud entrance. Starboard and Rodeo sat up in bed, both quietly interested in Ritz's whereabouts.
"What's goin' on?" Feivel muttered, only half-conscious.
"Shh, everyone go back to sleep." Ritz said as she changed into her nightgown, "I'se just gettin' in from my date wit' Spot." Her eyes flicked toward Lunch Money as she said this, hoping to see a reaction. Lunch Money turned over onto her other side, determined not to let Ritz see the look on her face.
"You'se was out wit' Spot?" Nix asked, sounding skeptical.
"What happened?" Feivel sat up, the seven-year-old exhibiting a disturbing interest in hearing the personal particulars of the date.
"Oh, show a little sensitivity, Feiv." Ritz giggled, "I don't think Lunch Money really wants ta heah all the intimate details of me an' Spot, do ya, Lunch?" Lunch Money didn't move, pretending to have dozed off with her eyes screwed shut. Her stomach had twisted itself into an intricate knot and she wished she could evaporate on the spot. Ritz folded her clothes and placed them inside the top drawer of her dresser. She walked slowly toward Lunch Money's bunk, sneering as she sank onto the bunk next to Lunch Money's. Ritz crossed her legs daintily, a maddening superior air about her.
"Ya knew it would end this way." She giggled. Lunch Money sat up.
"Whadadya talkin' about?" She asked dully.
"Ya neveh had a chance wit' him, Higgins." Ritz drawled. Lunch Money looked sharply in Ritz's direction. Ritz caught the look, and just laughed. "Yeah, like Spot was really gonna think anything a' some lowlife street rat— ya gotta loirn ya place, Higgins. You'se is just a street trash newsgoil from Manhattan." Ritz narrowed her eyes as Lunch Money's expression of fury intensified. "You got nuttin' ta interest a boy like Spot, so why don'tcha stop wastin' ya time?"
Now Lunch Money was on her feet. How dare Ritz call her a lowlife! If anyone was the lowlife, Lunch Money thought the finger ought to be pointing at Ritz, queen of the prostitutes. The girls around them were silent; Feivel was wide-eyed and almost grinning in anticipation of a fight. Nix looked slightly concerned, but let the events unfold.
"I'se the lowlife then?" Lunch Money growled, "What would that make you, I wondeh." Another thought occurred to her, "And if you'se is so shoah Spot wouldn't be interested in a goil like me, why d'ya get so mad wheneveh I talk ta him… Like you'se afraid he'll be sleepin' wit' me next." Lunch Money smirked and shook her head, "But don'tcha worry 'bout that, 'cos I got absolutely no interest in a boy like Spot." Another lie, but Lunch Money did her best to believe her own words. Ritz obviously didn't believe her, because she got to her feet as well, and cracked her hand across Lunch Money's mouth for the second time in less than a week. For a second Lunch Money froze, her own hand covering the skin that had been stung by Ritz's slap.
Lunch Money had had enough of this. Enough of Ritz. Her volatile temper finally bubbling over, Lunch Money launched herself at Ritz. In another second, the two girls were on the floor, slapping, punching, pulling hair, kicking; doing whatever they could to inflict damage on the other. Starboard shrieked and dove under her sheet, as though the white cotton would provide some sort of protection. Feivel was the first her feet, excitedly watching the brawl.
"Outta the way, Feivel!" Nix shoved the youngest newsgirl aside and rushed to break up the fight. It was quite a task to do so; it took both Rodeo and Nix to pull Lunch Money and Ritz apart.
"What a' mattah wit' ya?" Lunch Money yelled, still trying to fight Nix off so that she could take a few more swings at Ritz. "I ain't—I ain't done nuttin' ta ya, you bitch!"
"What the hell's goin' on up heah?" Roundhouse stood just outside the door, apparantly on his way back from brushing his teeth in one of the bathrooms. "It's middle a' of the n— damn, are ya tryin' kill each otheh?" He asked incredulously, eyeing Ritz's black eye and frazzled hair and Lunch Money's bloody nose and torn nightgown. The girls heard more movement from the lower floor; it seemed every newsboy in the lodging house was willing to give up an hour of sleep to watch a catfight. The voices of newsies calling to each other and making lewd jokes as they thundered up the stairs in hopes of catching the last bits of the fight.
"Break it up, break it up!" A cool voice commanded from the bottom of the stairs. Spot. The newsboys scattered, hurrying back to their own dorm. Spot, on the other hand scaled the stairs and paused outside the girl's room. He took in the scene: Nix and Rodeo were still carefully keeping Ritz and Lunch Money separated. The two younger girls were still watching the proceedings from their bunks, and right in the middle it all was Ritz and Lunch Money, giving each other glares that could kill lesser girls.
He genuinely had to keep himself from laughing; somehow, Spot felt that laughter would not be well received in this situation. But he had never seen Ritz in such a state of disarray, and he inwardly applauded Lunch Money's efforts to knock her down a few pegs. And Lunch Money was nothing short of charming, from the sneer she was giving Ritz, to the flecks of blood on her torn nightgown, to the way she impatiently combed her hair away from her eyes.
"What happened?" He asked, trying to remain focused and professional, "You'se goils is wakin' up the whole house, tryin' kill each otheh."
"Well, Ritz came in heah," Nix was the first to speak, "And woke us all up. Then she and Lunch Money got inta some argument and Ritz slapped Lunch, so Lunch retaliated and… that's pretty much what happened." She ended lamely. Spot looked carefully from Lunch Money to Ritz. Ritz gave him a pouty, damsel-in-distress look, while Lunch Money refused to look at him at all.
"Okay." Spot shrugged, "Listen, nex' time you'se wanna kill each otheh, try ta be a little quieteh about it. Or at least schedule the fight so's we boys can come up and watch wit'out havin' ta lose any sleep."
"So, what really happened?" Was Spot's greeting to Lunch Money the following afternoon. They were at Liam's for lunch, a quick break between beating up delivery boys. Lunch Money had chosen a booth near the back, hoping to avoid sitting with anyone. Spot, of course, had found her immediately and slid into the seat across the table.
"What, last night?" Lunch Money asked, caught off guard by the direct manner in which Spot chose to conduct the conversation.
"Yes, last night. You an' Ritz, what was all'a that?"
"Nix told ya. We argued, she slapped me, I jumped her." Lunch Money was actually telling the truth here. She just left out a couple of minor details.
"What'd ya say ta make her so mad?" Spot was clearly not going to let the matter drop, "Ya didn't say anything about--?"
"No!" Lunch Money said hastily, afraid for a moment that he might speak of the kiss out loud, and in a public place no less, "No, nuttin' like that. She just told me," She took a breath and made extra care to arrange her facial expression into that of apathy and boredom, "She just told me that she had a great time on her wit's you last night, and that theah was no way you'd have any interest in a goil like me." She shrugged, a slightly over exaggerated gesture, "She seems ta think theah's sumptin' goin' on wit' us."
"So, what'd ya say ta that?" Spot asked, not very good at concealing his curiousity.
"I told her not ta worry about me stealin' you away from her, 'cos I got no interest in a boy like you."
"And she slapped ya?" Spot asked incredulously, pretending he hadn't noticed the last words out of Lunch Money mouth. No interest in a boy like you. Ya hoird her Conlon, He said to himself, Give it up, already.
"Yeah."
"She's such a bitch." Spot shook his head.
Lunch Money gave him a look, "A bitch? Ya went out wit' her last night."
"It didn't mean nuttin'." He said explained, "Jack just wanted someone ta double date wit', so I said I'd come along if me found me a date." Lunch Money rolled her eyes. Yeah, Spot's date with Ritz had been completely innocent. Right.
"Yeah, and that's why she came back ta our dorm at three in the mornin'?" Lunch Money laughed cynically.
"Please, if anything had happened wit' me an' Ritz, she wouldn't'a come back at all, the next you'd be seein' her would be at breakfast— I mean," He amended, grinning sheepishly Lunch Money, who did not look amused, "No, nuttin' happened wit' me an' Ritz. Why do you care anyway?"
"I don't care." Lunch Money snapped, "When did ya heah me say that I cared?" She stood up to leave, but Spot had one more question he needed an answer to.
"Hey, Lunch? What if Ritz was wrong about me? About the kinda goils I'se interested in?"
"She ain't wrong." Lunch Money told him shortly. Were they really going to get into this now, right in Liam's?
"Then what about you?" he asked, "Were ya tellin' the truth?" Spot had to know. Had Lunch Money really been telling the truth when she said that she had no interest in a boy like him?
Lunch Money stopped short at the question. She wheeled around slowly to face Spot, looking serious, "Even if I wasn't tellin' the truth, would it make any difference?"
He knew what she meant. Even if he was in love with her, and she loved him back, they couldn't do anything about it. Spot wasn't about to jeopardize his position as the leader of Brooklyn; he would not have the other newsboys questioning his strength or lack thereof if he let personal feelings get in the way of anything. And Lunch Money would never relent and dispose of her tough, tomboy façade. They both had reputations to protect and had no time to wander around falling in love. Love was too dangerous and unpredictable. Love was for weaklings; those who depended on the support of another person to get through life.
"No. No, I guess it wouldn't make any difference." He answered quietly. Lunch Money nodded and gave Spot a sort of half-smile before turning and exiting the restaurant, venturing out into the wintry streets. Spot watched her go. Funny, he had spent so much of his life telling his friends and enemies that he had no heart; Spot almost believed it. Spot knew now that he must have a heart; that pain he felt every time he saw or thought of Lunch Money had intensified just now as she walked away from him. He knew he had a heart, because it had just been broken.