Chapter 21

The next morning I woke up alone in the bedroom. I brushed it off and dressed myself in my own clothes. I brushed my hair and threw it into a messy bun, hair falling to the side of my face.

I walked out of the bedroom with a yawn and walked past the bunkroom that was half filled with boys dressing for work. I rolled my eyes and looked over to the washroom, quickly scanning through the crowd of boys to find Spot. Nope.

I decided he was probably waiting for me to go downstairs to sell, give me a smart ass remark about my speed and me retorting wisely to him.

Much to my dismay, Spot was no where to be found. After the Midtown incident, I was not mad, but scared for what may have happened to Spot. What if they took him over night? And I had slept through the whole ordeal. He would call my name and I would roll over in his sleep.

Or worse; what if they killed him? I would not be able to live with myself if they did; I would definitely off myself if Spot died.

If I did nothing to help him, that is. Yea, that is the only reason I would kill myself if he died, guilt.

I widened my eyes and ran to the door, placing my hat on my head. I through the wooden barrier open and jumped off the stoop. "Spot?" I called, my hands cupping my mouth. "Spot?" I called out hoarsely, tears welling in my eyes with fear for Spot.

I realized then and there that I truly cared for Spot; in reality, Spot was probably the best friend I ever had. I only wish he would feel the same about me.

I sprinted, weaving in and out through city-goers, to the distribution center.

I bumped into a wealthy man, his suitcase and papers flying everywhere, both of us falling to the ground with a thud.

I sat up and tried to help the man gather his papers. He ripped them out of my hands and gave me a nasty look as we stood up.

"Thought you could steal from me, huh?" He asked, a scowl present on his round face.

I put my hands up and shook my head, "No, sir, It was an accident, I swear it!" I pleaded.

The man made a move as if to turn and walk away, but he turned back to me and tersely punched me hard in the face, sending my flying to the ground.

I held my hand to my face and looked up at him with wide eyes. "Teaches you from trying to steal from me," he said before leaving me in the street, a giant bruise forming on my pale face.

I got up to my feet and could not hold it anymore. Tears streaked my face as I ran further into Brooklyn to the Center.

Once I made it there, I became instantly furious. I saw Spot, sitting on a pile of papers, smoking a cigarette and waiting for the Center to open.

My hands clenched at my sides as I walked up behind him. "Ya think it's funny ta leave me alone at da lodgin house?" I asked, growling in anger.

"No," he said, taking a puff of his cigarette, not facing me, "Jus wanted ta take a walk. Sometime ta meself," he said mockingly.

"Ya know I was worried sick about ya? I thought ya died or was kidnapped!" I exclaimed, holding my arms out, and huffing loudly, crossing my arms.

Spot laughed, "Ya ovah exaggeratin' bout dis Cross," he said shaking his head, leaning his elbows on his knees and taking another swift puff, looked to his side.

"Ya? Well if ya hadn't ran off, I wouldn' had been so worried an have run into a business man," I said, pressing my fingers onto my bruise, hissing.

Spot laughed again, shaking his head, "Ya so clueless Cross," he said passing it off as a joke.

"Ya well; he thought I was stealin' from 'im!" I stated.

"Were ya?" He asked simply, not looking at me.

I gasped, "No! But 'e thought I was and he punched me, Right in da face," I said.

At that moment, Spot jumped up and threw his cigarette onto the floor and examined my face, "Are you'se okay?" He asked, concern evident in his voice.

"Ya," I said shortly, pushing him away from me. I went over to the papes distributor and bought my papers, "I'se is sellin' by meself tahday. Now ya could get all da alone time ya need," I said before quickly leaving the center.

I went to where Sinker and I sold that day and tried to hawk my made up headlines. With no partner, it was much harder and took longer to sell just twenty papes.

The once sunny morning, became afternoon, clouds now covering the skies. I only had ten coins, having eleven more papes to go and the sky began to pour.

I had to laugh at my luck, dropping the papes on the cement next to me and sitting on the curb.

I looked over at the papers and at the diner just a few stores down.

I sighed, figuring it was only fair that I was treated like every other newsie in the city and ripped off a piece of news paper and threw it into my mouth, holding my nose.

I ate about two more pieces before I deemed myself 'full' and kicked the papers angrily into the cobblestone street and trudged around the corner away from the diner.

I was soaked hat to boot in rain water. I took off my hat and shook my head free of water.

The rain was coming down hard and as I passed an alley I was pulled in, a hand covering my mouth.

I was pressed against a bricked wall, a switch blade to my neck.

"Tell me what ya know bout Conlon," the voice demanded in a silky tone.

I gasped, "Smooth," I said quietly, gulping as I felt the knife brush against my neck.

"So Conlon does talk bout me, huh?" He said cockily.

I rolled my eyes, "I can't believe ya would be stupid enough ta come into Brooklyn," I growled.

He pushed the knife a littler harder, "Ya think dat it's wise ta insult ya attacker?" He asked.

I gulped, "No," I said.

"Tell me bout Conlon, bitch," he said.

I was mad, furious to be exact. This had to be the worst day of my entire life. I was not going to let this bozo make it even worse.

I brought my knee hard up to his groin. He gasped and released his grip on my as he fell to the ground, "Next time ya wanna talk, make it on a good day," I said as I kicked him in the stomach harshly before running out of the alley into the pouring rain

Thank god it was raining, for I could not handle it if anyone saw me crying.

And that is what I did my whole walk home.

I simply cried.

End of Chapter

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