Author note: Wow, this week has been quite hectic. However, here I am blessing you with another chapter. I'm interested in what you guys think about my story, so please remember to review. Another thing, I would love to know which characters you guys like most when I get to introducing more of them. Personally, I'm quite fond of Italy and Ben. Italy just reminds of Stephen (from The Game of Life) and I was always attached to Stephen. As for Ben, well, I suppose you wouldn't understand that yet, now would you? You've barely been introduced to him. For some reason I just like his character. This story gives me the advantage to practice with characters, really. Well, I hope you like it!

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Spot cursed under his breath and rubbed his head where he had so clumsily smacked it. Italy held back the laugh that was itching up his throat and received a glare from the great Brooklyn leader. Spot got to his feet, no longer worried about his sore head.

"You're crazy," he told Italy. His voice echoed throughout the room.

"It's a good idea," Italy replied. "No, it's brilliant!"

Spot shook his head. "No way, Italy - Spot Conlon hasn't got any time for goils. 'Sides, it'll be awkward with one of my own newsies."

Italy sighed. "But Spot, Ben respects you the most - and you're intimidating! We gotta help my sister."

Spot tightly clutched his cane, and seemed to think this over. He had a reputation to withhold, and with a girl continuously at his side would only make him look weak. A soft spot for a girl wasn't what the Brooklyn king was all about. He was supposed to be tough, mean, and infamous. Irish was a tiny girl with little self-respect. How was Spot going to keep his reputation up with a girl like her?

Italy could feel this chance slipping away and bit his lip. "If you do it," he swallowed, "I'll give you my watch!"

Spot's eyes suddenly widened in shock. Everybody - everybody in Brooklyn - wanted to get their hands on Italy's $200 gold pocket watch, and here he was literally throwing it at Spot if he'd pretend to be with his sister.

"Now you've really lost it," Spot told him. Personally, he didn't like being bribed, but he wanted that watch - no, he needed that watch. He could sell it for more than it was worth, and then he wouldn't be a street rat anymore. But I like bein' a street rat, he thought. I'll jus' be a street rat with money.

Italy was surprised when Spot held out his hand and said "deal." Italy sealed the deal with a firm handshake.

"But you only get the watch after Ben admits his feelings."

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Italy felt guilty for bribing Spot with his favorite watch. It was always special to him - a gift from his deceased grandfather several years ago. He could hear his voice now, even after so long of living without him.

"Family comes first, Miller. Put Rosalie ahead of everything, she's all you got."

Italy frowned, staring at the watch that he held firmly in his hands. Ever since the death of their grandpa, Italy put Irish before everything. His grandpa would want him to make this sacrifice - for Irish's happiness. She was all that he had left, and she meant everything to him. This sacrifice was quite hard to make - for any brother for that matter. He was literally begging Spot Conlon to be with his sister. What kind of caring brother was he?

Irish stayed hidden under her sheets, holding back the tears she had been crying all day. The other girls already knew the story, and none of them had the heart to tell her to suck it up. Her heart was broken - shattered! Ben never cared for her the way she cared for him. She had been humiliated, and now here she was, crying her eyes out over some boy! If her mother were still in her life, she'd order her to grow up. She was a big girl now - practically an adult.

But what did her mother know? She was a prostitute, and Irish would never sink as low as her. She loved Ben, she knew she did. Love is difficult, she thought. Why does it have to be so confusing? Such a small word, yet it meant so much.

There was a loud knock on the girl's bunkroom door. Irish ignored her visitor and remained silent, hoping to fool the person into thinking she was asleep. It didn't work, though, because whoever had wanted to see her rudely entered the room. Irish listened to the footsteps inch closer to her, and stop at the end of her bed.

"So dis is how you get over heartache," a rough voice said.

Irish, confused and bewildered, removed her pillow and lifted her head. Spot had his arms crossed firmly over his chest, leaning against Suds and Daisy's bunk. He had a stern look glued to his face that didn't falter when he saw Irish's condition.

"Go away, Spot," Irish said bravely as she returned to hiding under her pillow. She shivered slightly at what she had just said to Spot Conlon, and hoped he wasn't in a bad mood.

Spot rolled his eyes and moved closer to Irish's bed. "Get up," he told her. "Just 'cause Ben doesn't like you doesn't give you an excuse not to sell."

Irish held on tightly to her pillow as Spot tried pulling it away. She groaned when his strength overpowered hers, and the light greeted her weak eyes. She sat up; he didn't seem phased by her behavior and tossed her pillow over his shoulder.

"Stop cryin' and wash yourself up, Lombardi. I'm gonna leave you for ten minutes, and when I return, whether or not you're fully dressed and cleaned, you're goin' to sell."

Irish knew that arguing with Spot would only get her into trouble, so she got to her feet and stormed off into the washroom. She had to admit, she was afraid of what Spot Conlon was capable of. She knew he meant what he said, and she didn't feel like being humiliated again. She needed to sell, anyway, if she planned to eat today.

Spot, frustrated with the idea of babysitting Italy's little sister, trudged downstairs and plopped down on the last step. She was going to be a handful - Spot was sure of that. She was going to be like a lost puppy, clinging to the infallible king until Ben came out of his shell. Spot still couldn't believe that he was agreeing to do this for some stupid watch.

He frowned, playing with the rubber band on his slingshot. It wasn't a stupid watch, but he felt stupid for letting Italy bribe him so easily. He was a little concerned of what his newsies would think. He was more than positive that they wouldn't be bold enough to joke about it to his face, but would they think him weak? Would his reputation sink into the bottomless pits of the ocean?

It was all the Brooklyn king could think of for the never-ending ten minutes. Irish didn't look at all happy as she walked down the stairs. In fact, she said nothing to him, and only frowned. She knew better than to glare at him, and he knew she wasn't in any hurry to speak to him. Deep down, she felt angry at him and Italy for what they had done.

Irish made to exit the Lodging House, but Spot immediately blocked her way. "Not so fast," he told her. "We have to talk."

Irish wrinkled her eyebrows. Soon, as if out of nowhere, Italy appeared at Spot's side. He had a goofy grin on his face, and instantly Irish knew that they were up to something.