Author note: C'mon people, where are the reviews? Thank you to those of you who did review…both of you. Well, enjoy.
With so much on my mind I completely missed the boy, wearing a black cowboy hat, swiftly walking by me. He stopped in his tracks and turned around.
"Anomie?" he said, squinting to make sure he was seeing right.
I turned around questioningly and smirked at Jack Kelly. "Hey Jack," I greeted the Manhattan leader. "What brings you here?"
"Lookin' for Spot. Do you know of his whereabouts?" he asked, adjusting his hat.
"Last I seen him he was heading to a fight," I shrugged, crossing my arms.
"A fight?" Jack inquired.
"Yeah, with New Jersey or something."
"Do you know where da fight is?" Jack asked.
"Not a clue," I said, glancing towards a buggy riding by.
"Damn," Jack cursed. He studied his shoes momentarily and then shoved his hands into his pockets.
"What do you need him for?" I questioned, curious as to why Jack needed the fearless Brooklyn leader.
"Personal," Jack said apologetically. "I'd tell ya but-"
"Save it, I understand. Everything's personal with you newsies," I chuckled.
"You said he was fightin with New Jersey?" Jack changed the subject.
"That's what Blade said," I told him truthfully. "I don't know what's going on."
Jack averted his eyes to a bulky man passing by and then looked back towards me. "If you see him again today, can you tell I was lookin for him?" he pleaded.
"Sure," I said, blowing the hair out of my eyes.
Jack tipped his hat in farewell and left back towards Manhattan in a rushed step. He was definitely hiding something…just like Spot.
I shrugged to myself and continued to the docks, hoping to find at least one of Spot's newsies hanging around, but only found it to be empty. I listened to my feet echoing off the docks as I walked towards Spot's usual post and stared up at it with a faint smile.
He wasn't there, of course, but even standing near it you could feel his pride and power around it. His name was whispered through the streets like crazy, people always talking about the one and only Spot Conlon. Girls went into fits of giggles if they saw him walk by them without a glance, falling in love with that careless face, wondering how he could pass them without flirting. Young men talked about encounters and how much they wished to be him, and adults merely feared him as if he were going to pickpocket them any moment.
But lately he wasn't the big talk around Brooklyn. Lately it was all about Eve Carter, even after six months of living with her in their territory. Everywhere I turned there was a reporter or an admirer, and the occasional harasser. Nobody had the guts to approach me without caution, and nobody had the silliness to speak with me alone. I was different now, but to them I was still a coldhearted murderer.
Some people swore up and down that I was behind the school of survival thing, but that was just talk. Girls didn't even dare to glare at me for stealing Brooklyn's heart, but they did have the courage to send me quick glances now and then.
I laughed to myself as I turned towards the river and stared at the beautiful, silvery water, letting the wind blow my hair to its usual rhythm.
"And what brings you here, doll?" a harsh voice asked.
I didn't jump or glance around frantically. I kept my cold stare on the river and leaned against a post in a bored way. "Nothing that concerns you," I said back.
A boy, about Spot's age, approached me shortly, shaggy brown hair falling in his eyes as he looked me from head to toe. "Well then," he said, pulling a cigarette out of his mouth and tossing it into the river, "aren't we jus' all attitude?"
"You're harming the river by throwing that in there," I said, referring to the cigarette that was now floating to the bottom.
"Wonderful," he said, placing his hand on the post, merely inches from my head.
I glanced at his hand with fiery eyes and then looked towards him. "Do you need something?" I asked in a sharp tone, causing the boy to raise his eyebrows.
"Actually, I do," he said, bending down a little to look me in the eyes. "Do you know where I can find da leadah of da newsies?" he asked.
"He's not around at the moment," I said, settling my eyes once again on the river.
"Too bad," the boy said, "I was hopin' to see him today."
"Tough luck for you," I said dully.
"I'm Alleyn, by da way," he said. "How 'bout you?"
"Alleyn, eh?" I said. "I'm…not in the mood."
I pushed by him and began to walk away, but stopped once I felt his hand grip my forearm lightly.
"It ain't polite to leave me without givin me a name to think about," he said. "I can't imagine yer face and not add a name."
I smiled slyly and pulled my arm away. "It's Anomie," I said.
Alleyn nodded and settled his eyes on mine. "What else can you tell me?"
"Well," I said, stepping closer and placing my hand on his neck, my lips inching closer to his. Before we got any closer I pushed him with my hand into the river and watched as he landed with a big splash.
He resurfaced shortly and took a deep breath. "Retrieve your cigarette, sir, it could harm Spot's river…and you don't want that."
I smirked evilly and walked away, satisfied with my actions. I continued walking until I came upon the Lodging House, curious as to who was around. I entered slowly, listening carefully for the usual chatter amongst Spot's boys, but I heard nothing.
"Anomie," Davison, the owner of the Lodging House greeted me. "What brings you heah?"
"Looking for Spot…or one of the other newsies," I said.
"Well Spot jus' came in. He's up in da sleepin quarters," Davison said, pointing his thumb behind him towards the stairway.
"Thanks," I said, giving him a warm smile before beginning my climb up the stairs.
I entered the boy's sleeping quarters unnoticed and leaned against the doorway, looking around to see if anybody was home. My eyes detected that Spot was the only one around.
I studied him carefully as he began to unbutton his shirt, pain noticeable in his features. His suspenders hung at his sides and he slowly finished unbuttoning his shirt.
"Knock, knock," I said, finally making my presence noticed.
Spot looked towards the door, his hair hanging loosely in his face, a tired look in his eyes. He dropped his caution once he noticed me and ran a hand through his hair.
"Hey," he said roughly.
I walked further into the room, passing by empty unmade bunks and stopped at Spot's. He slowly removed his shirt, now standing in his undershirt which was stained in a sticky red substance.
I stared for a moment as Spot easily threw his shirt aside and started to remove the next one.
"What happened?" I asked, choking over my words as I stared painfully at the blood soaked shirt.
"Nothin I wanna worry you about," Spot replied.
"Worry me? Spot, you're bleeding! How do you think I feel right now?"
He removed his undershirt and my eyes landed on the open wound on his side. It looked as if someone punched him so many times it began to bleed. He even looked roughed up in other places as well.
"New Jersey ain't as weak as we thought," he said, wincing as he placed a hand on his wound.
"Sit," I said, forcing him to sit on his bed.
In a matter of time I was at Spot's side, wiping at the wound that stood out perfectly on his tanned body. Spot's breathing was slow and steady as he stared off into space.
"Jack came looking for you," I said, bringing him out of his trance. "He seemed to be in a bit of a hurry."
Spot clenched his fists as I dabbed at his side and let out a painful sigh. "Did he say anythin?" he asked.
"Not really," I shrugged.
I stopped wiping at Spot's wound and began to bandage it up. I already knew so much about wounds I could be a nurse.
After bandaging Spot's wound I sat beside him on his bed, and placed my hand on his forearm to grab his attention. "Are you alright?" I asked, my eyes soft.
"I'm fine," he said, looking away.
I sighed through my nose and looked around the room. "You don't have to feel embarrassed because your girl bandaged you," I said.
Spot immediately looked at me sharply, his eyes boring into mine. "Dat's da last thing I'd be from gainin yer help, Anomie," he said truthfully.
I smiled vaguely and felt Spot take my hand in his own. He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine passionately, his other hand running through my hair.
I could've let Spot do as he pleased to me right there, just like times before, but I didn't allow it for his wound was just too much of a pain.
Next Chapter: There's going to be an anniversary party for the strike at the Irving Hall. Spot meets Alleyn.
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