Part II, Chapter XV
April 13, 1902
Brooklyn, New York
When Eyes approached the lodging house for the second time later that day, he took in a big breath. There was a feeling a apprehension and uncertainty that had plagued him for most of the night. It seemed for the first time, Brooklyn stood slightly defeated, almost duped. How had that happened? He shook his head and walked towards the entrance. Inside the lobby, Clemens was counting what little money he had left. His arm held up his head and his fingers dug tiredly into his scalp. He looked at Eyes through the tops of his spectacles and said nothing. Eyes, at a loss for words, meekly walked past. As he climbed up the stairs, he could hear the boys arguing in the ransacked bunkroom.
"Where were you?"
"Where was I? I was fuckin' tryin' to get those punks off my back, where was you?"
"Don't gimme that shit, you was the first one to run off back to Brooklyn!"
"Both 'a you shut up! I can't take hearin' you bitch any more!"
"It ain't anyone's fault 'cept Conlon, he wasn't even there!"
When Eyes appeared in the doorway, the younger newsies stopped arguing. They all turned to Eyes expectantly, and all he could do was stare back. He surveyed the bunkroom: more windows had been broken, much of the contents of the beds were either torn to pieces or were merely stripped and thrown askew, the nightstands were overturned and were spilling whatever was inside onto the floor. Eyes walked down the aisle way, the younger boys parting to the side to give him room, and he came upon the bathing area of the bunkroom. He stared angrily at the utility closet. Its door was wide open, as was the window directly next to it, and in his mind he saw Johnnyy scurrying out with the help of his Crown Heights brothers.
"Oh, shit…" came another voice. Eyes turned around to see Bolt timidly entering the bunkroom from the staircase.
"What the hell're you doin' heah, Bolt?" shouted one of the newsies.
"Get the hell outta heah!"
"Yeah, you'se ain't supposed to be anywhere near heah!"
One of boys, Dodge, promptly jumped onto an upright nightstand pointed his slingshot at Bolt, who looked up at the inferior boy with cold eyes and a clenched jaw. He said nothing. He knew he deserved this, that his crimes couldn't go unpunished, but he still felt like he shouldn't feel guilty. The boy's arm was steady as he held back the black marble between the rubber band and his index finger.
"Get that outta his face!" shouted Eyes defensively, stomping across the room towards the scene.
"No! I wanna show 'im he can't get away with that shit heah, he should know bettah!" screamed Dodge. "Thief! Criminal!"
"Eyes, c'mon, he betrayed us!" shouted another.
Bolt looked out the window behind him to avoid the newsies' angry gazes. Eyes didn't break stide on his way over to the scene, and stepped in front of Bolt to protect him from Dodge's slingshot.
"Put it away, Dodge," he ordered.
Dodge shook his head. His lips were pursed and his jaw was clenched in angry determination.
"Dodge! Put. It. Away."
Bolt turned his back shamefully and rested his arms on either side of the window. Eyes stared the boy down until, finally, he backed down and relieved the rubber band. He crossed his arms as he stepped down from the nightstand and said angrily, "Bolt, you'se still dead to me."
"Yeah, what the hell're ya thinkin', Bolt?" asked another boy.
"'Cause I ain't gonna leave Brooklyn behind me when somethin' like this happens. You can take my help er leave it, but I don' see Conlon anywhere 'round heah so who's gonna help take care 'a this mess?" replied Bolt sincerely.
"We was doin' just fine without you heah," said Dodge, who in fact resembled a young Spot Conlon with his arms across his chest and sneer taking over his face.
"Shut up, Dodge, we wasn't doin' nothin' but arguin'!" retaliated another.
Eyes looked back at Bolt, who had turned back around but still leaned against the window sill. He eyed him for help, for he wasn't sure what to say.
"I mean, I know I wasn't there, but where'd Conlon go after everyone left the house?" asked Bolt.
The boys looked around at each other for the answer. They shook their heads and shrugged their shoulders.
"No one knows?" said Eyes, filled with surprise, and he sighed, grabbing at the roots of his hair.
"D'ya think he was one 'a the guys they captured?" one boy suggested.
"Doubtful. They woulda made a biggah deal out of it when we was there. When we came back heah, he wasn't around, though. So I guess it's possible."
"I dunno, Eyes, d'ya really think Conlon got 'imself captured?" suggested Bolt.
Eyes shook his head. "No. But, shit, I can barely remembah…"
"What're we gonna do?" asked the smallest newsie at Eyes's side.
"Well, from what I can tell these Crown Heights boys ain't playin' by the rules. They got Johnny back fer a start, but they wanna get back at Conlon fer doin' it. I don' know how we're gonna handle this without Conlon heah. God, where the hell is he?"
April 14, 1902
Brooklyn, New York
"It's so much better here," said Emma as she peered out the window. "And I don't even recognize this part of the city."
Spot bit his lip and sat at the other side of the window. He watched Emma's eyes as she scanned the streets and buildings. He watched her fingers dance across her lips as she chewed at her fingernail. He watched her feet tap against the chair legs. He smiled, and walked over to her. Lovingly, and almost protectively, he stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, kissing her temple.
"Don' leave the city," he said.
"I'm not." She rubbed his arm reassuringly.
He couldn't explain the rush he got when Emma rubbed his arm. He couldn't explain what was going on at all, actually. For the past twelve hours he had not been acting the way the leader of Brooklyn would act. He was entranced by Emma, and he was completely aware of the lovesick state of mind he was in. He had no intention of getting out of it. They hadn't even left the room since they went inside. He was in love, and all he needed was Emma. For Spot, everything was complete.
"So, I'm starvin', I say we go to Sonny's an' get some food…"
Suddenly, Spot snapped right out of it. He turned around and froze.
"Oh, I thought Bolt said…" Emma stood up and paused. She closed her eyes and the only word that came to the racing stillness of her mind was, Shit.
Spot squeezed his eyes tightly as the real world came rushing back to him with a vengeance. Sonny's was closed because it got shut down, and Spot had kidnapped Johnny because he thought he had called the police, and Crown Heights had threatened him, and Bolt…
"I'm gonna be sick," he said suddenly and ran out of the bedroom.
Emma sat back down and buried her head in her hands.
…Bolt knew about Emma's return, and she knows about Johnny, and Spot kicked Bolt out of the lodging house because of her.
"Oh, God, this can't be good," murmured Emma.
Spot bent down over the toilet, sure as Hell that he was going to vomit. He couldn't get anything out. His stomach lurched and he coughed, hoping everything would come out, but nothing did. There was nothing in his stomach to throw up--he had been at the inn without any food. He shoved his fingers down deep into his throat one last time. Nothing. He leaned his back onto the stall and slid down.
The last thing he remembered before seeing Emma was the rock Crown Heights had thrown with the note attached to it, and the boys from the bunkroom were racing down the street to attack who had threatened them. What happened to his boys? Where were they now?
Just then, Peter Crenshaw entered the bathroom. He looked into the stall and looked down at Spot, whose face had gone white and his temples beaded with sweat.
"Was that you doin' all the drinkin' last night too, then? Couldn't really sleep because of it…" he trailed.
Spot shook his head and picked his exhausted body up from the ground.
"Hey, take your own advice and have some of that coffee from the diner 'round the corner. Helped me out, couldn't locate Norton Street, though…"
Spot, aware of his rudeness, began walking towards the door.
"Hey, actually, I have a question, I'm looking for someone, maybe you can help me. She's about my age, maybe five foot, four inches, blonde hair, her name's--"
Spot turned around and shook his head. "I can't right now--I can barely think."
He pushed open the door with force and walked down the hallway. When he opened the door to his room, he found Emma sitting on the chair by the window, bent over holding her head. She straightened up as Spot came inside the room, which seemed smaller than he recalled. It seemed like the walls were closer, that everything was suddenly bigger, and he and Emma were smaller than ever. Spot sighed and leaned against the door as soon as it was closed. Emma had changed quickly in appearance. Her face wasn't calm now; it was full of guilt, regret, and uncertainty. Her watery eyes looked down.
Spot looked at her but looked away. It was too real for him and he realized he couldn't have both Brooklyn and Emma under the current circumstances. He knew Brooklyn was in trouble, but he couldn't guarantee Emma would be safe from it. It was the only way he was able to control Brooklyn the way he had for three years--he only had enough space in his heart for one of them--Bolt was right. He felt like a criminal.
"What are we gonna do now?" asked Emma, breaking the silence.
Spot shook his head. "I don't know."
To Isabel: Thank you. I hope this works!
