Author's Note: So I guess you all noticed I've been updating an awful lot lately. It's Christmas break, and I've no homework. Plus I'm stuck with lots of old relatives that don't expect me to make conversation with them, so the internet is my sanctuary. I seem to be experiancing a mode that's the opposite of writer's block. Let me tell you, it's quite a relief not to be crippled by writer's block when I've gotten to this point in the story... I've completely forgotten my original intent of writing this Author's Note. Oh well. Thanks for the reviews, peeps, I love hearing feedback! Enjoy. --Schroe Dawson
The drama of the scene in the boy's dorm the previous night and the rumors of the relationship between Spot and Lunch Money that were quickly circulated among the newsboys was the only topic of discussion the next morning at Liam's. That, combined with the news of Lunch Money's sudden disappearance added up to a scandal unprecedented to anything that ever happened in Brooklyn. None of the newsgirls were very concerned at first when they discovered Lunch Money to be missing from her bunk. They figured she went out early for breakfast, or maybe that she'd gone after Spot and the others to help rescue the Manhattan boys from the refuge.
Nix and Starboard were worried, and spent much of the morning inquiring if any of the newsboys had seen Lunch Money since the previous night. No one had. Ritz was quietly pleased that Lunch Money had vanished, but she still spent the morning sulking after hearing about what went on in the boy's dorm, to no one's surprise. Tease and Rodeo both felt slightly insulted on behalf of their friend Ritz when they heard that Spot had professed his love for Lunch Money. Feivel was indifferent to the gossip, only appreciating that everyone was too worked up over the hearsay to pay much attention to how much food she snitched off their plates.
Midway through breakfast Spot and Kid Blink staggered into Liam's, gasping for breath. They were bleeding, dirty and empty handed. They'd lost their rope, slingshots, and apparently, half their company.
"What happened?" Was the general response to their entrance. Spot and Blink panted and swallowed, struggling to get out words.
"We—we couldn't get Jack and the othehs out." Spot said breathlessly, "We couldn't get 'em outta the refuge. The place is swarming with guards. We got that close to the window, and they started shootin'. They caught Boots an' Mush. They didn't get hurt, but they'se was arrested." Spot stated the events in his typical matter-of-fact manner, very detached from the situation. It was obviously killing Blink, what had happened last night. He stood silently next to Spot, looking quite miserable. He was eager to see Lunch Money so they could commiserate the absence of their friends. He and Lunch Money was the only Manhattan newsies to evade capture, thus far.
The newsies mournfully went back to their breakfasts. Holding quiet conversations about the losing war they were fighting. The newsies were being picked off individually, and with the Manhattan newsies out of the picture (save for Kid Blink and Lunch Money), it was only a matter of time before the bulls wised up and went after the leader of Brooklyn, and then his followers.
Spot and Kid Blink would have been glad to get their own breakfasts after such a long, perilous night, but they were approached by a very urgent-looking Nix. Her face was tense and anxious, and she pulled Blink and Spot off to one side and said in an urgent whisper:
"Have ya seen Lunch Money?"
"Not since last night." Blink replied slowly, "Why?"
"She's gone."
"What?" Blink bleated a little too loudly.
"Whadadya mean she's gone? Gone wheah?" Spot asked nervously, exchanging a look with Blink.
"We don't know!" Nix hissed, "No one's seen her since last night."
Blink glared at Spot, "Ya heah that? It's all your fault, Conlon." He snapped, momentarily forgetting that one should never speak so impudently to Spot Conlon. Fortunately for Blink, Spot was too distracted to notice Blink's lack of respect.
"I know; I know it's my fault!" Spot said, frustrated, "Ya think I couldn't figger that out? Look," He said quietly to Nix, "We gotta find her. What if sumptin's happened ta her? She's pretty well proved she can't take care of herself on the streets—"
"Or anywhere else." Blink interjected.
"Racetrack would neveh forgive me if she got hurt." Spot finished.
"Ya mean ya'd neveh forgive yahself." Nix said shrewdly.
"Well, that too." Spot gave Nix a reproving look, "Just get Roundhouse and Feivel and find out what happened ta her."
Nix nodded and disappeared. It wasn't just a whim that caused Spot to ask for Feivel and Roundhouse to assist Nix in her search. Those three alone formed Brooklyn's mysterious and notorious network of spies. They somehow managed to be everywhere, hear everything. Spot always assigned tasks of espionage and reconnaissance to those 'little boirdies.' Roundhouse and Feivel were small enough to fit into some unlikely places, and were cute enough (and agile enough) to get away with anything on the off chance they were caught eavesdropping. Nix was the brains behind the operation. She was the detective of the trio, deciphering whatever information Feivel or Roundhouse discovered and identifying the motives of whomever they were spying on. So really, it was no surprise that Nix was the first to guess Spot's feelings for Lunch Money; one might say it was in her job description.
So the three agents left Liam's, disappearing into the snowy city. Blink and Spot watched them go, both anxious. They knew they couldn't stand at the window all day; it would be a while before Lunch Money would walk down that street again anway. And the newsies had work to do. Spot took in a deep breath. He would have to face the other newsies now. After what had happened last night, he was not looking forward to that. But he was done pretending nothing had happened, even if Lunch Money hadn't yet.
"Get up! Get up, goilies! Theah's woirk ta be done!"
Ava Higgins opened her eyes. Around her, the other girls promptly rolled out of bed, and began changing into their work clothes and brushing their hair. Ava sat up, rubbing her eyes blearily. These mornings were nothing like the chaos of the Manhattan lodging house, or even the quieter atmosphere of the Brooklyn lodging house. There were only three other girls in the small room, and none of them would ever be caught hocking papes on the street. They were actual, proper young ladies, despite their working class station, and they were rather scandalized upon first meeting Ava, with her boy's trousers and colorful vocabulary. They covered their mouths with their hands and their eyes went wide if someone muttered so much as "Geez!" in their presence, let alone words like "Dammit" or "Bitch".
Ava was one of them now though. She rose from her bed, quickly dressing in a deep green skirt, cream-colored blouse and worn apron, all garments borrowed from the other girls. Ava joined the rest of the girls in the washroom, combing out her hair and washing her face. As she scrubbed in the sink, Ava studied her face in the tiny smudged mirror.
The girl reflected back at her was barely recognizable as Lunch Money Higgins, the tough tomboy of the Manhattan newsies. In her place was a girl like any other young lady in New York. The girl her brother always told her she should be. The girl she might have been all along. Ava knew if she had listened to her brother earlier, and never become a newsie, none of this would have happened. She never would have even heard of Spot Conlon.
It didn't matter now though. This was her new life. It was as simple as that: she had gotten scared, so she ran. It was better for everyone if she just left newsies alone. She had to stop playing on the streets and grow up. "Lunch Money" was just a nickname that Ava Higgins once had.
Ava and the other girls finished up their morning routine and headed downstairs to the laundry on the first floor. It was Ava's third day working as a laundress, and Mrs. Withers (the old bat who ran the joint) was growing rather impatient with her incompetence; it seemed unbelievable that a girl of Ava's age had never done laundry before. Still, Ava spent the day working hard and trying to get the hang of the business.
"So, Ava, is it?" A stout, friendly looking girl asked cheerfully, as the laundry girls wrung the clothes and ironed them out flat. Ava nodded.
"Yeah, Ava Higgins."
"I'm Molly." The girl told her, "Where'd ya come from?"
"Uh, New Yawk." Ava thought that was obvious.
"No, I mean what kinda woirk didja do befoah this?" Molly giggled. Ava frowned, looking down at the damp shirt in her hands.
"I woirked as newsie." She muttered, not really wanting to talk about anything connected to her old life. The naïve girls looked awed and interested in Ava's past exciting life on the streets.
"Ooh, what was that like?" Another girl asked.
"Wasn't dreadful?" Asked yet another, sounding disgusted, "It's such dirty woirk on the streets all day, and theah's hardly any newsgoils out theah any more. Only grimy street rat boys who'll take advantage of a goil as soon as look at her."
Ava shrugged, "It was al'ight. I had friends that looked out fa' me." She smiled faintly, remembering the one night someone had tried to take advantage of her, and Spot had come to her rescue. Part of her longed to go back to that night, while the other half of her wished it had never happened. She missed him, she ached to see him again, but she refused to admit it to herself. Miss Higgins had been a stubborn girl when she went by Lunch Money, and she intended to be just as stubborn going by Ava. Spot Conlon was just a boy she once knew. That was all. She was still caught up in the make-believe that nothing had ever happened.
"Spot!"
Nix at last found the leader of Brooklyn. She had sprinted from Manhattan, running through every back street and alley, looking for Spot. She was out of breath, but pleased to finally have a report for Spot after so many days of scouring New York City. Spot turned at the sound of his name, and looked hopeful as Nix ran to catch up with him.
"I found her."