Part II, Chapter VIII

April 10, 2007

Brooklyn, New York

Spot walked up and down, slowly for effect. His arms were crossed over his chest and his lips bore a pursed, disappointed frown as if a father were talking to disobeying his children.

"We could be heah all day, boys," Spot spoke in front of the silent line of boys who had all slept in the bunkroom that night. "That means no papes, no money, no food, no nothin', until one 'a you fesses up to takin' the money from Clemens."

The boys shifted in their stances. A few looked around through the corners of their eyes. Bolt sat on the bunk behind Spot. His heart beat rapidly as he patted his sweating forehead. The guilt within him was growing and he tried his best to fight off the truth, for inside his head he was screaming, "It's Emma! Emma's back!" Instead he swallowed it down and hung his head low.

Spot sighed exaggeratedly. He shook his head. He looked at Bolt and shrugged subtly. Bolt licked his lips and thought quickly.

"Ya know, McCroy an' Diggins was sleepin' this morning," said Bolt quietly.

"Yeah, they was, weren't they?"

Spot grunted angrily and stomped down the line of boys, grabbing McCroy and Diggins each by the arm without breaking stride until they reached the end of the bunkroom near the closet. The line did not move, and instead each boy leaned over to get a better view. Spot threw the two night guards against the window.

"How long you guys sleep, huh? Answer me!"

"Fer like a minute, Conlon, I swears!" answered Diggins.

"Yeah, it wasn't till sun-up! Johnny didn't go nowheres!" added McCroy.

Spot let go and threw open the closet door. Johnny cowered further back into the closet, his huge, frightened eyes looking up at the boy towering over him. Spot picked up Johnny by his collar and shoved him against the wall, the wooden shelves stabbing into the smaller boy's back unforgivably.

"I swear to God, if you lie to me Johnny, I'm gonna blow yer tiny brains out, a'right?" threatened Spot. "Ya got that so far?"

Johnny had squinted his eyes in fear and quivered as he replied, "Y-Yeah! I got that!"

"Did you take the money? "

"No! Swear to God! I swears! I was in heah all night!"

Spot tried to figure out the expression on Johnny's twisted face. Johnny opened his eyes, cautiously, and looked at Spot directly in the eye, and answered honestly, though weakly, "I swear I didn't take it. Jus' put me down, please…"

The stench of the closet then suddenly became aware to Spot. The smell of urine stung his nose when he realized he had scared Johnny so much that he actually wet himself. He dropped Johnny to the floor and stormed out of the closet.

"Clean him up," he said to McCroy and Diggins. "Now. I can't take smellin' that shit."

McCroy and Diggins jumped to order and began carrying it out.

Spot stomped back to the bunkroom where the boys quickly readjusted and snapped to attention. At the start of the lineup Spot stopped and held out his palm.

"Gimme yer weapons," he ordered calmly.

"Conlon--" interrupted Bolt.

"Gimme yer weapons," he repeated, louder and with more conviction.

The first boy Spot had approached looked around and handed over his pocketknife. The next boy handed him a slingshot. He went down the line collecting similar items--pistols, marbles, blades. He handed them to Bolt when he had too much to carry, and they stashed them on top of Spot's mattress.

"A'right! You boys can leave now," shouted Spot as soon as he was finished.

They all looked around, concerned.

"Conlon, we can't go out there unarmed!" spoke up one boy.

"Yeah, that's a death sentence!" piped another.

"Well, unless someone tells me they took the money, then you boys bettah be extra careful not to get yourselves into trouble then!"

Spot turned and stormed out of the bunkroom and downstairs. The boys were livid, pointing fingers, and shouting at one another. Bolt slowly walked backward as if trying to hide from the rest of the newsies. He stumbled onto his bed, speechless, watching.


Corwell Bakery looked better than it did three years ago. Emma didn't want to admit that. But it was. She stood in the middle of the street, arms folded over her chest, allowing strangers to bump right into her. She hadn't expected to be filled with such emotion, but it was as if a good, gentle wind could knock her right off her feet. This surely wasn't her home anymore.

"It ain't goin' anywhere the more ya stare at it."

Emma turned to face Bolt.

"It's just strange," Emma said quietly. "It's strange to see…different people behind the counter, it's strange to see different curtains in the windows up there."

Bolt placed a gentle hand on her arm and turned her toward the restaurant where they had agreed to meet. They sat in a booth, neither saying much. Emma stirred around the contents of her soup, occasionally biting off pieces of bread and watching Bolt pour more coffee into his mug.

"What's your plan?" asked Emma.

Bolt looked up, offended. "What's your plan, is more like it?"

"My plan's to see Spot and talk to him. Obviously you're keeping me from doing that, so I'm asking you, what's your plan?"

"I'm still tryin' to figure out why you're heah. Why would you wanna talk to Spot? Don' tell me it's to rehash the past or talk fondly 'a the memories, er else you wouldn't 'a tried sneakin' into the lodging house and you wouldn't 'a broken down cryin' when I saw ya."

Emma blinked, her throat suddenly dry.

"What's really goin' on?" Bolt leaned closer to the table to make better eye contact.

Pressing her lips together, Emma broke his gaze and stared at the wooden table surface. She was back in her bedroom, a coffee stain on her slip dress, sitting on her bed while Peter was bent down on one knee before her. She felt the naked, exposed feeling now just as she did then. The image of Peter's eyes staring longingly into hers made her look away immediately.

"I never answered him."

"Huh?" asked Bolt, confused.

Emma shook her head and responded, "There's this boy in Philadelphia…"

"Oh Jesus…" Bolt sank all the way back into the cushioned seat and covered his face with his hands.

"Hey! You asked why I'm here and I'm telling you."

"Go on," groaned Bolt, his face still hidden in his hands.

"Peter Crenshaw is a boy from Philadelphia that…I feel forced to be with him. He's a family friend, and he's so sweet and nice and I know there'd be security with him, so it all makes sense to be with him. But…I don't think anyone's looking out for what I want. Bolt, I can't bring myself to do it. I can't marry him. I won't do it."

"Emma, seein' Spot ain't gonna make yer decision any easier. It's just gonna confuse things. You can't run away from yer problems like this."

"I'm not running away!" snapped Emma.

"Yes, you are! Ya don' wanna be with the guy from Philly so ya came back to the only place you evah called home, hopin' Spot would change things for you an' he'd take care 'a yer Philly problem."

"I don't expect him to take care of my Philly problem at all. I don't even want 'im to take Peter's place--"

"Yeah ya do--"

"No! Bolt, do you remember at all what he did to me? He made no time for me anymore, he cheated on me with that girl from Sonny's. He kicked me to the side and didn't even give a shit."

"Didn't give a shit? Who was it, then, tryin' to get on that train the day ya left?"

Emma glared at Bolt without giving an answer.

"Ya still have feelings fer Spot and it's obvious. I'm not gonna stop you from feelin' that way. I ain't gonna let ya walk back into Brooklyn, though, and especially back into Spot's life. Obviously ya ain't goin' anywheres, though, so if ya gotta see Spot so bad, yer gonna need my help."

Emma's foot rattled nervously and angrily underneath the table, fighting the urge to say, "To hell with you," to Bolt, and hearing him out instead.

"Well, what do we do then?"

"I think we should first get ya somewhere to stay. Some 'a the newsies don' stay in the lodging house so we'll find someone who'll let ya stay with them a while. Don't talk about Spot to anyone. Anyone. Seriously. I'll set up a meeting between you an' Spot so it ain't a shock when he first sees ya. A'right?"

Emma nodded slowly, solemnly. She looked at Bolt when it became very clear: Here was someone who was actually looking out for her.


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