I knew that the next few days or even months would be difficult because I'd decided that I wasn't only going to support myself, but Spot too. Because he was so hurt he couldn't sell papers. The fact hat he's living in a a lodging house doesn't help because he has to pay for meals and rent. I bought one hundred papers that day. I was blessed with a good headline. Actually a great headline! Most of the stories were good too. I had a lot to work with. I ran to my usual spot and screamed out the headline and the good stories.

"Three found dead in an ally way in Harlem!" I yelled.

The headline got peoples attention and so I sold all of my papers (in a bit more time than usual of course). I had twice of the money I usually had. I divided it by two and put half in one pocket and half in the other. I walked over the Brooklyn Bridge and to the boarding house. Not all of the newsies were there because they were still selling. I walked into Spot room.

"Hey Faith." He said.

He was happy to see me.

"Hey Spot." I said sitting next to him on the bed.

"Miss me already?" He joked.

"I got something for you."

"Oh yeah? What is it?"

I reached into my pocket and pulled out all of the money I'd made.

"Faith no... I couldn't!"

"How are you supposed to support your self?" I asked. "You need to pay to eat here, you need to pay to sleep here. If you don't they'll trow you out on the streets!"

Spot took a deep breath.

"It's going to be hard on you." He said.

"No it won't."

"Faith I'm going to be ok. Than I'll pay off my bills."

"The last thing you need right now is a debt." I said.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes. I just want you to be safe." I kissed his forehead.

"I love you."

I felt myself blush.

"I love you too."

Spot kissed me slowly. I stayed for a little while than I left. I continued buying the hundred papers, but from the next day forward the the headlines got worse... It got harder to sell papers and I started losing my income. I'd sell the unsold papers back that helped of course. It still hit me a bit hard.

The headlines weren't getting any better and neither was Spot. Spot's recovery was slower than most expected. A few day passed no change. I'd go to Brooklyn often just to talk to Spot. He always knew how to make me feel better. Race was also going through a lot. Gilt was eating him alive. We'd talk about it a lot.

"I just feel like it's my fault..." He said.

"You couldn't have known Race." I said.

"But Spot isn't getting any better and-"

"He's going to be fine!"

Race nodded. I put a hand on his shoulder.

"It's not your fault." I told him.

"Thanks Faith, I needed somebody to talk to."

"Don't worry about it."

"You deserve a thank you. I know what your going through." He said. "Maybe you should have some time to your self."

"You know I can't do that."

"Faith you need a break! I know your helping Spot and that means a lot to you but it's to much!"

"I know what your saying, but I can't."

"I know..."

"Spot will be better soon and than everything will be the way it was."

"I hope your right..."