Hey all, I listened to Boats and Birds by Gregory and the Hawk while writing this chapter, it felt right. I know there is some violence and everything, but if this story had a theme like a movie I think it would be Boats and Birds. It's really the tone. It is very much the tone of Hum, or her relation to other people. In particular it worked for when I was writing about her watching Brooklyn the time she walks to the Lodging House and then picking back up when she meets Scottie. Happy Reading (:

I stood there trying to appear as though I had a purpose for a good ten minutes before a cold and wet hand wrapped around my arm. I jerked away roughly; he had misgauged my strength so I got away. I could hear someone laughing above us.

Spot.

It was a quiet laugh. Sort of smug in a way.

Once again I had let myself fall so deep into my thoughts that I hadn't noticed boys gathering around me. Only five or six of them, but still. I dropped my bag to the side. One less thing to worry about for the moment.

I glanced up at Spot. Would he condone this? Would he enjoy it? Would he stop it?

Maybe I was over thinking it.

"You want to be part of Brooklyn?" His gray mist eyes stared back at me and then his voice echoed in my ears, "Then do it."

Hazing. This could be hazing. Every borough had their own sort, some beat you, some stole all your blankets, and some gave you the silent treatment. Whatever this was, I was pretty sure I'd have to fight.

Another boy, one with long black hair, grabbed at me and I swung a punch at him, connecting solidly with his jaw. It hurt a bit, but the satisfaction of him stepping away in pain made up for that. But I couldn't revel for too long as another, the red head from before, came at me with a spiky haired blonde. One shoved me back and I hit the ground, the other connected a kick to my gut.

I choked on my own breath when that happened but had enough sense to throw my hands up and catch his leg, pulling it up so that he fell on his ass and then rolling away. The black haired guy that I'd punched came at me again, getting me to step back once again.

This is when I noticed that they were all steadily getting me closer to the edge of the dock. Shit. I guess you could learn to swim on the spot right? But that's when one guy ran at me, trying to grab hold of me and drag me into the water with him. I dodged out of the way. Two other ran in my direction and I kicked one and ducked below another. I felt a block catch me on the back of the head and staggered.

I could still feel Spot watching in powerful silence from above us all. Like God or something of the like.

The red head charged before I could straighten up from the blow to the skull or get any wind back from the earlier kick. He wrapped his arms around me and we went flying off the dock. I braced myself to hit the dark water, barley able to take in a breath before we went under.

Boys were shouting and hollering around us, cheering, yelling things I couldn't understand. My ears were suddenly clogged with water that muted most noise; it was a bit serene in a way. But it was so cold it hurt, it felt as if my muscles were getting pricked my little needles.

I knew that if I kicked my legs I'd get up. That's what I'd seen boys do before.

But the red head wasn't letting go of me, he pushed my head down, arms keeping me below him. I panicked, it was probably bad to do, but I did. I shouted under the water. The little oxygen I had coming out in bubbles. I shook and pushed and fought to get upward. But it wasn't working.

My body hurt, and my brain hurt. It was like I was starving for air. Everything was getting fuzzy as I inhaled water and tried to cough it out while still under. I was going to die.

Right there. In Brooklyn.

And Jack had said I'd be safe.

Above me somewhere in the back of my head I could hear a voice counting, "Eight, seven, six, five…"

I gave one last good jerk to get away from the red head with all of my remaining energy and then…I was being dragged upward and then my head broke the surface. I coughed before I could get any air in, my eyes tearing which made me mad because I wasn't actually crying. It was involuntary.

A bunch of newsies were shouting and cackling. Many jumping into the water, suddenly though, the water felt warmer than the air above. It was like I couldn't stop shaking. And when the red head let go of me I went back down and started choking again.

He quickly wrapped his arms around me, pulling me against his chest which freaked me out, I blindly pushed against him but he mumbled in my ear, "Calm down, calm down. I ain't gonna hurt ya! If ya keep fighting you'll pass out and den you'll just drown."

Wow, I was shaking really hard. I could feel myself making him vibrate too. We waded over to the ladder and I caught my breath. Once we got there I made myself latch on and quickly climb up with too all of my energy. I could feel bloody dripping warmly down my face from my nose as I got onto the dock.

I couldn't still the shaking as hard as I tried. But I could make it less obvious. I straightened my spine and stared coolly at Spot who was still perched on his throne above us all. He jumped down swiftly and walked up to me, looking me up and down.

"Consider that ya baptism into da Brooklyn newsies. Be happy youse only had ta deal with thirty seconds like a kid, da big boys get sixty." His tone made me annoyed and angry. I wanted to lash out at him. But my limbs were still too weak to do anything, burning from the lack of oxygen. My chest heaving slightly. "Let that be a warning to ya goil. We ain't gonna go any easier on ya den we did just now. Ya got me?"

When I didn't reply he repeated, "Ya got me?" His voice became sharp and expectant.

I gave a curt nod. No one had heard me speak yet so I felt like keep that to myself. Better to have one secret. Silent was untouchable. Untouchable was good for me at that moment.

"Now turn around." He told me, "And punch Firecracker in the face for helpin' ya out o' da water." Spot's glare turned to gaze behind me. The red head met my eyes when I turned to face him and gave a smirk, he might have helped me for a minute, but he also almost killed me and had been fine with take swings at me earlier.

I had to work with Brooklyn. I had promised Jack. I hated doing this for the simple reason that I felt unnecessarily cruel. But I had to.

I brought my arm back and slugged him good across the face. Hard enough that I heard a knuckle in my hand crack. But I didn't say anything about it. I was surprised at my own strength even with the shaking. Must have been adrenaline or something.

"Ya didn't mean it." Spot told me when I backed away from Firecracker. "That won't help youse when ya being raped in an alley goily. Ya can't regret it."

I remained silent.

"Quiet are ya Hum?" He asked with a smirk in his tone, I could see him flick his blonde streaks out of his eyes through my peripheral. "Well Firecracker, if ya so smitten wit her youse can take care o' her. Ya know where ta put her."

"Come on boys." He announced to everyone. "We're headin' back."

And with that he like Jack, was gone halfway down the dock, before I could even think a second thought. Boys were dissolving into a pack behind him as I just stood there. Frozen for some unknown reason. The wind blew through my dark hair.

I reached down for my bag just as my knees decided to give out. I had started the day on no sleep, I had been in two fights, relocated, almost drowned, and now I was freezing to death. What a great start to the week.

"Oh no ya don't. " Hands wrapped under my arms and around my back, pulling me back up. The flash of red hair showed me it was that Firecracker guy and I gave up trying to figure out if he was good or bad. "Stand up and stay up. I didn't put my ass on da line just for ya ta pass out on da docks and freeze." He grabbed my bag and pulled me back up, rubbing my arms for a minute to get circulation going. "Rub ya chest, dat's where ya need ta get warm the quickest. It'll stop da shaking." He told me as he started forward.

"I'm sorry f-for punchin' you." I told him, why did I have to apologize for everything? "And…and thanks f-for helpin' me."

He glanced at me. "So ya can speak?" He nodded as if this was something he hadn't considered. Of course I could speak how else would I be a newsie?

I noticed my cap in his hand and reached for it as we got to the end of the dock. He was about eighteen years old, going on nineteen. "Don't." He warned as he saw me go for the hat, "It's wet, you'll just get sick if ya keep it on."

For some reason he was helping me and I chose to accept it for what it was at the moment. Simple assistance.

The walk back to the Brooklyn Lodging House was a quiet and cold one. People avoided the boys as they walked through the streets and the boys kept to themselves mostly. I took in Brooklyn as we went. It was a lot like Manhattan but in the same way also very different. There were many more carpenters and small businesses whereas in Manhattan there were tons of big shops that had many smaller units about the area.

The sky was getting dark, dusk touching the clouds in a soft dusting. You could just see the stars peaking out. I knew that right now many of the older boys in Manhattan would be taking the younger back to the Lodging House for the night before they would head to Medda's or Tibby's. It was Monday so that meant everyone would be talking about Poker Night on the upcoming Wednesday.

We all got to what looked like an abandoned warehouse somewhere down at the end of a road. I felt out of place. But I kept going on. Brooklyn was emptier in a way, than Manhattan. Sort of in spirit. That's why it seemed so much colder I guess.

Despite what they had done to me so far, I could tell these boys had been beaten down. They were hard because the world was hard to them and they didn't get treated kindly. I knew what that was like, I had seen it before. Sometimes I wondered why that never happened to me. But it just didn't. I suppose I believed in the good in people, even if it was stupid at times. It made me hopefully.

As we came closer to the warehouse it became obvious that the Brooklyn newsies lived very differently than many others. There was no one running their Lodging House, it wasn't even really a Lodging House if you go by the definition of it. I assumed this meant they boarded for free which any newsie would appreciate; it was help them save a lot. But that also meant they would have no access to medical assistance or the supplies in most Lodging Houses.

"Welcome," Firecracker grumbled as we stepped through the wooden doorway into a medium sized room with a set of stairs in the corner. It looked like quite the opposite of a warehouse, it actually looked like they were living in the home of a former man or wealth, or maybe more like a fancy hotel. Though much of it was run down, but still.

"You don't have anyone running this place?" I asked Firecracker, who was taking off his coat and throwing it on a moth-eaten sofa near the corner.

"No, not since back in '86." He told me shortly before taking my arm and dragging me to the stairs, "It would be better if you just went to your bed."

I wasn't a kid who needed to be sent to bed. But after today I couldn't argue. We zigzagged through groups of boys who were talking loudly about fights and headlines and wars until we reached the twisting staircase.

Then we went up and up and up. Until the boys on the first floor could be seen no more.

It was late and I was still awake, so maybe it was early now.

Firecracker had led me to a room on the fourth floor that looked like it had been a bed room. There were lots of those, as we had gone up I had taken note of everything I could. The first three floors had about three or four small rooms, two for sleeping, one for entertaining company -something that newsies would never use in the way it was meant-. It appeared as though it was more so used for poker. There were washrooms on the first and third floors; those were the floors that had four.

About six boys would sleep in a bedroom, though there wasn't much order to who slept where from what I could tell. So there were about fifty boys with Brooklyn at their Lodging House alone. We only had about twenty lodging and forty total in Manhattan.

Anyway, there was a kitchen on the first floor somewhere from what I had glimpsed quickly, and all the way up on the fourth floor where I was located it seemed kind of empty to be honest. Like no one ever went there.

When Firecracker had lead me up he had started to walk more quietly once he advanced to the forth level, as if afraid to disturb anything. This part of the building was a bit untouched; there were paintings on a wall of two of a family, a man and a woman. Young, happy. And the painting looked like it was only really touched by time, not the messy hands of youthful newsies.

"Firecracker?" I had asked as we had walked down a carpeted hall, "Why is this hall so…"

"Creepy?" He supplied, almost laughing which made him for the first time appear sort of likable for more than just his assistance. Friendly. "The guy who used ta run dis place lived up here wit his wife." He stopped and glanced at a picture. I took note of the word used, and before I could ask he elaborated briefly by saying, "Dey died some years back, lots o' guys just tink it's respectful ta their memory if we don't mess wit it. Da family was good ta da newsies o' Brooklyn so we'se was always good ta dem. Ta be honest I haven't been up in here in ages."

I felt curious now, a warm feeling that gave me drive. "Then why are we up here now?"

Firecracker didn't turn to answer me but told me, "Well if ya would rather share wit one o' us boys I'm sure someone would-"

"No, no, it's fine." I cut off quickly as he reached one of the white closed doors, wrapping his big hand around the crystal knob.

When he opened it he looked to me and said, "We don't go inta da other rooms on dis floor, only Spot can alright? Its dis and Spot's office, which is da last door on da left."

Spot had an office? It was a bit classy I had to admit. But Brooklyn was very mob like so it made sense in my mind to a degree. Especially in a house like this. Mob mentality.

His black eyes were so serious it that I just nodded.

The floor had five doors. So one had to be an office, the other was the one I was in the moment. I guessed one must have been an additional wash room, and the other two were bedrooms?

The room I was in was not a bed room. It was a sitting room with a large sofa and some chairs. There were big windows that you could feel the wind blowing through slightly but not enough to bother. The windows cast a view onto the city. Little stars peaking out of the dark blankets of sky. The Atlantic visible with waves rolling.

White curtains with little holes in them adorned the edges of the windows; in the far corner was a large black piano. Currently I had dragged myself over to stand by, my feet padded across the floor. Going from plod-plod to pit-pat as I went off the carpet onto the hard wood of the floor.

It was untouched like everything else and dust hung onto it like a layer of silk. It was huge with gold and red on the front making letters that were too small to read in the dark of night. I quietly reached down and pulled the cover of up to see the ivory white keys, twinkling like new.

The inside of a piano is the most interesting thing I have ever seen. It's complex and confusing and beautiful. Because everything works together, I had seen them played before.

Softly, I ran a finger over one of the keys, which was soft and cool on my skin. Beside me was a fire place that had obviously not been used in years and another painting over the mantle. The mantle had small objects like boxes and empty vases. The tea table had old papers, even a chipped china cup remained.

Like the people had died and everyone had decided to just act like they were still about after. Like things hadn't changed.

My day had been the oddest of my life, terrible morning, a worse afternoon in Brooklyn, and now it was like I had been popped into a story on this floor that seemed completely apart from everything I had come into contact with that day.

I appreciated it.

"Ahh..."

It was a soft call, so soft I didn't notice it at first.

And then again.

"Ahh..."

The floor creaked as I turned to go look in the direction the noise had come. It was definitely a person. The sound was outside my door though…

"Ahh…ahh…"

I tiptoed over to the door, but the floor creaked once again beneath me anyway. The noise continuing every few seconds…And as I poked my head out, I saw a little boy sitting on the bottom step.

He had to be about eleven, the youngest boy I had seen in Brooklyn yet. Though he looked like he was about nine to be honest. And he was crying. Quietly though. I thought I had recognized the noise.

I crept down the stairs as silently as possible, my bare feet feeling the chill of the wood. When I reached the second step there was loud "Eeee!" And the boys head shot up. He saw me and his eyes widened, pupils large in the darkness.

"Are…are you a ghost?" He asked in a frightened tone, so that's why he had looked so scared! He was frozen to his seat so I took another step and then sat beside him.

"No silly," I told him with a laugh, "I'm Hummingbird, what's your name?"

He looked cautiously at me, sliding to the edge of the step he was sitting on, very blatantly canceling out my question with his own. "How do I know youse is tellin' da truth?"

Rolling my eyes I sat down on the step above him and poked him hard in the ribs. He yelped, as though surprised I didn't go straight through him.

"Believe me now?" I smiled, "Now tell me kid, what's your name?"

His face now relaxed slightly he sighed and responded to my question at last. "Swipes." He rubbed his dirty hand under his reddened nose. "Sorry if I woke ya up Miss."

"It's okay Swipes." My tone kind, one I used often when I knew a kid had been having a rough day or dream. "I was up anyway. It's hard to sleep in this old house, isn't it?" I winked at him, wrinkling my nose in false distaste.

I winked at him and he stared at me like he had never heard anyone joke about being woken up.

"Come on Swipes, smile a little. You look like you could use a laugh." I told him honestly, nudging his shoulder gently. He gave a weak smile at my urging. I slid closer to him so he was sandwiched between me and the wall. "What was the nightmare about?"

Swipes looked at the ground, his white blonde hair a stark contrast against the dark wooden wall. "Nothin' Miss."

"Stop this Miss business." I scolded gently, "Call me Hum; we're friends after all aren't we? Now come on, tell me what it was about. I won't laugh." When he didn't say anything I added, "I'll act like we never talked at all, no one needs to know."

That seemed to reassure him. Above us the wind made the roof groan and creek like it was trying to speak. "Ise was dreamin' o' me parents."

"Ah, I see." I nodded, "Lots of kids have bad dreams about their old families. It's no crime."

"It is for Brooklyn!" He realized how loud his voice was and shut his mouth immediately. We both waited to see if anyone would come out of their rooms. No one did.

I could see Swipes' eyes tearing up a bit. It seemed like he was more afraid of being caught upset than of the nightmare itself.

"I'll let you in on a secret." I told him running a hand through his curls, "Every newsie, whether they're from Manhattan or Queens or even dear old Brooklyn…has had a nightmare. Spot Conlon has plenty of them I bet."

When I went to touch his hair again Swipes turned away. I placed my hand in my lap thinking about what to say next. "Want me to leave?"

"No." He said quietly. "I don't like being alone."

That was a big thing to admit for him I could tell. But in my opinion it was good for him, it's not healthy the way Brooklyn worked, acting like stones half the time. I could only imagine what it was like to be a kid growing up there.

"Want to go back to your room?"

"No."

"Go back to sleep?"

"No."

"Well," I said, relaxing against one of the steps, "why don't we just sit here for a bit and you can rest your eyes until you feel ready to get back into bed and sleep?"

I waited for an answer.

"Yeah."

And with that I sat there, Swipes resting his head against the wall until it got too heavy and fell onto my lap. I ran my fingers soothingly through his hair, the way someone had done for me when I was little. Humming a little tune under my breath.

It wasn't a tune I could really identify but I had known it for as long as I could remember. I always hummed it when I got nervous or needed some reassurance. My eyelids felt heavy.

I was really tired, it must have been at least one in the morning. And now that I had warmed up in my spare shirt and my pants had dried I was ready to hit the hay.

I really need to get back to my room. I thought blearily as I continued the hypnotically calming motion of running my hand through Swipes' hair. Then I felt someone standing behind me.

I looked up to see Spot, who had made no sound on the old steps as he had come down them. I couldn't read his eyes but he didn't look mad. Contemplative, maybe.

"Makin' me newsies soft Hum?" He asked rhetorically as I blinked up at him. His blonde streaked hair was in his face and he brushed it away as he came to stand in front of us. "Ya good wit kids." He stated looking at the people before him. A little boy snuggled on a young girl's lap as she let him sleep quietly.

"Yeah, that's what they tell me." I told him coolly. "You going to have me thrown in the sea again for helping a kid out?"

"I would." He told me honestly, "But you might drown and not everyone is as nice as Firecracker." I laughed at that, it was funny somehow in my tired mind. Spot was being civil and I appreciated it that's for sure.

He watched me close my eyes again, yawning.

"It's good for da kid, to get some help every once and a while." Spot admitted gazing at Swipes. "We don't normally take kids as young as him. We got him and three others under fourteen, Swipes is da youngest dough. And da newest…after youse dat is."

I nodded at that statement even though I was too tired to really think about it. Spot leaned down and picked Swipes up, bouncing him once to get him more firmly in his arms.

Swipes didn't wake.

Only rolled deeper into Spot so that he had his face buried into Spot's chest. It was cute in a way.

"Go ta bed." Spot told me. And then he was gone into one of the other rooms.

I padded back up the stairs and into the room I had been given, laying back on the soft sofa. Through the window you could still see the twinkling stars peaking out at the world.

I thought about what Spot had said I should do for a moment.

And then did just that.