SPOT

It was nice to forget about it all for a while. Ellis Then was decent with a slingshot. Not anything special- not like me. But okay. Enough for a Brooklynite. She missed a third of the time, I never missed.

She raised her slingshot threateningly. Her hair had almost completely fallen out of the ringlets, loose and messy. She was breathing hard and her eyes were still sparkling. Good. I wanted to keep that light in her eyes, and I would.

How stupid did that sound? But I had to. I would never forgive myself if the light died from her eyes- if that blue-gray mist dimmed- if her eyes shut forever- if she was another Caroline.

That was the first time I had dared to think her name in months.

And that was why, I realized.

It wasn't the mist. She had the same achingly blue eyes as Caroline. Those eyes were one in a million. That's why I wanted to keep the light in her eyes, save her- like I hadn't been able to save Caroline.

Caroline, Caroline, Caroline.

Ellis Then looked at me funny. "You okay?"

To my horror, I found the beginnings of a sob working its way up my throat. The second time I'd ever cried, and now was not the time. Not in front of Ellis Then. I choked it down. It was all Caroline's fault. Even from the grave, she was still messing up my life.

"Fine," I said, clearing my throat.

"Hey, soldier. It's only a game," she remarked, coming over to stand by me. "Hey, I kind of like that. Soldier."

Now I really was fine. What had gotten into me? "Sorry, Ellis Then- wait. What did ya just call me? Ya know I already have a name-"

"Soldier," she mused. "Because you don't let anyone down, and you're the leader of the kick-butt borough, Brooklyn."

"Should we head back?" I said, ignoring this.

Ellis Then had shot me in the forehead with a marble before I could blink. "Soldier! Am I ready to pass to the next level, sir?"

I rubbed my forehead, smirking. "Yes ma'am. Tomorrow I'll teach you how to soak a scab."

"Can't wait," Ellis Then replied staunchly. I had to admit it- the girl was tough. Despite her ringlets.

ELLIS THEN

We passed Jack Kelly carrying the banner by a boxing ring on our way back. I was shocked. He was a traitor! Working for Pulitzer! Dang him!

"Baby born with two heads- must be from Brooklyn," Jack sneered as we walked by. I only laughed with disbelief.

"You realize who's standing next to you, Kelly?" I said. I had still not forgiven him for the disgusting hand kiss. I mean, come on! It was nasty!

Spot was bristling next to me. "Don't think I heard ya right. Now scram before I soak ya, scab."

"That," Jack snarled, "ain't my name."

As Spot's hand flew to his black-and-gold cane, I decided it was time to intervene. I stepped between them. "Jack, there's no need to be rude. You too, Spot," I added over my shoulder when Jack's face turned purple.

"What's the problem?" I continued, ignoring Spot's blustering behind me: "I'm not being rude! He's a scab! He sold us out! Aw, come on, Ellis Then, why-" "Can I help you with something?"

Jack glared at Spot. "Conlon, can ya leave us alone for two seconds?"

Spot swallowed his colossal pride and stepped aside.

"Look, Gr- Ellis. I thought wese had somethin' going, just da two of us," Jack began. "And den ya turn around and sell in Brooklyn. Wit' him!" He jabbed a finger at Spot, who was pretending like he wasn't listening in.

"It was really nice of you to take me in, Jack, especially on such short notice, but now I've gotten used to being a newsie I'd rather sell in Brooklyn-"

"Why?" Jack screeched. "What's Brooklyn got dat Manhattan ain't?"

I wanted to tell him the truth: a better leader. Instead I replied, "My great-grandparents immigrated from England and lived in Brooklyn. Plus, Blink and Mush are falling all over themselves-"

"But-"

"And Spot is training me so I don't completely disgrace Brooklyn. After all, a Brooklyn newsie needs to be able to soak a scab, and really anybody else, and shoot a slingshot, and swim, and charm-"

Jack interrupted, "Now dat is just ridicu-"

"After all," I repeated, clenching my teeth and delivering a low blow, "a Brooklyn newsie needs to know how to soak a scab. That way when us Brooklynites show up and save your weak little behinds, we don't get beaten up ourselves."

Jack's face, still purple, turned the shade of an eggplant. I was impressed in spite of myself. "Why did you sell us out, Jack?" I asked, changing the subject. "It wasn't because of me. Why?"

"It was partially ya. Da other part was da fact dat Pulitzer is takin' me to da trainyards right after dis," Jack said. "Guess which one motivated me more?"

"Where'd ya learn a big word like motivated?" Spot interjected.

"Tell da boys I'm headin' to Santa Fe for me, Ellis." Jack turned back to his papes.

Fury flared deep within me. "Never!" I yelled, losing my temper.

"What-"

"You can at least be man enough to tell them yourself that you're leaving them, breaking their hearts, killing their dreams, ruining their lives!" My words were daggers, slicing into him. He turned towards me.

"Excuse me," said Jack dangerously. "What did ya just say?"

"Was this just a game to you?" My voice broke. "What about Les, Jack? You can tell him his hero is leaving and he'll never see you again! Jack, tell them yourself!"

Spot was barely controlling himself just behind me. His cane was out. That was not a good sign.

Jack took a step closer to me. His eyes were cold as steel. I was suddenly very afraid of him, despite the fact that we were on a bustling street. Why had I mentioned Les? "I'm not his hero. I'm not anyone's hero," he said.

"But you are! You're his hero, and Boots, and Mush, and Sarah- Sarah! They all love you! Jack-"

"Don't ya dare mention Sarah," Jack said, full of unrestrained anger bubbling over the edges, like a volcano. "Don't ya dare."

"Sarah! Sarah will miss you so much-"

Something in him snapped. His eyes were wild and terrifyingly uncontrolled. He turned to face me, and I knew he was beyond reason. He pulled back his fist and punched me in the face.

I gasped, half-surprise, half-pain, as a sharp agony blossomed across my face. I twisted away from him.

He drew back his fist to punch me again.

But Spot was already in front of me. "Excuse me, Jackie boy," he said venomously, "but ya have two seconds to apologize to Brooklyn or I'll soak ya bloody."

Feeling my mouth for lost teeth, I felt a warm trickle on my hand and pulled it away, surprised at the sight of crimson blood covering my hand.

Jack said nothing.

A sudden wave of pain crashed down on me. I doubled over, clutching my face. Black spots danced in front of my vision, blurring it.

Through the scene that was playing out before me, I saw Jack swing wildly at Spot. Spot ducked effortlessly and landed a punch to Jack's face. Jack fell back, wiping blood out of his eyes. He growled and threw himself at Spot. The leader of Brooklyn swore when Jack's fist made contact with his face. He swung around and brought his leg with him, hard, into Jack's stomach.

Jack sputtered out a curse slurred with blood and slumped to the ground, grabbing at his stomach. Blood flew everywhere, all over me.

"Can ya walk?" Spot said shortly to me.

I didn't want to at all, but I nodded.

"Come on."

I stood up and staggered unsteadily after him.

"I can't believe he hit a lady," Spot muttered under his breath.

A spark of anger rose in my chest and strength roared through me. "I. Am. No. Lady. If you ever say that to me again, or treat me like a lady, I'll kick you into next week."

Spot stopped abruptly. I thudded into his back. He turned to face me, his sharp eyes boring holes into my skull. "No matter how many slingshots ya practice wit', ya'll always be a goil. If ya ever threaten me again, I'll kick ya into next week. Now move it."

I nodded, ignoring the pain that now had nothing to do with my bloody face, and hurried after him.