The next morning, all the newsies met Denton at a diner not far from the World office. The newspaperman had a handful of copies of his paper.
Fawkes gulped when she wrestled a copy from someone and collapsed into a booth. Their story was on the front page. It should have been good news.
She couldn't bring herself to read the article. She was distracted by the photo that was front and center. It was the picture she'd barely noticed Denton take yesterday. She'd been reeling from one too many punches to the head. Now, she was able to fully comprehend how awful things were spiraling out of control.
Someone snagged the paper from her dazed grasp.
Fawkes stood, ready to fight.
It was Jack. He slid in beside her as she sat back down. He was perusing the article.
"How bad is it?" She whispered.
"Luckily, Spot's interview and the fact that Denton doesn't know who all is in this photograph is helpful. We're in the clear."
"Name-wise," Fawkes agreed. "We both know Snyder's going to get his hands on this paper. He knows we're in town, but he also likes collecting unruly kids to add to his Refuge. Our strike is a prime place to get new recruits."
Jack nodded. He didn't say anything. Fawkes could see a muscle in his jaw working. They'd come so far. They'd gotten people's attention. They were a front-page story. They couldn't just up and walk away to save their skins. They had to see this through. Who else would lead the strike?
Spot slid into the booth opposite them and grabbed the paper from Jack's hands. He grinned at the picture and made a smart remark neither Fawkes, nor Cowboy paid any attention to. The leader of Brooklyn read the article and leaned back, "Denton's not half-bad."
Fawkes and Jack remained silent.
"Did I ruin a moment?" He looked between the pair of them.
They didn't respond.
Spot looked back to the photo. Jack was in the center of the group, Spot was beside him. Fawkes was on the edge of the group-very close to that kid with one eye-Kid Blink. He made a face. It didn't mean anything. Spot only ever saw her with Race and Cowboy. The photo didn't give anything away. It looked like Blink had pulled her in at the last moment. If he hadn't she wouldn't have been in the photograph at all.
"What's next?" He rolled up the paper and that seemed to bring them back to life.
They agreed to keep picketing the circulation centers, fending off thugs if necessary.
In the afternoon, Fawkes slipped off to work at Medda's, still a little off.
She didn't notice Jack slip in. Spot followed him.
It was a good plan. There was no way Snyder could sift through all the boys during a picket, and he'd have to pick the right circulation center. Staying at Medda's kept them off the streets.
Fawkes didn't know why Spot came. Probably to plan. They discussed rally options: where and when, and other such details.
It was getting late, which is normally when the crowd got rowdier.
Fawkes had taken to wearing a simple dress and one of Medda's scarlet curly wigs while she waited tables. She'd learned that the customers tip better when they're being served by a girl. The downside was that they got grabby sometimes.
A bigger guy pulled Fawkes into his lap after she delivered his table a round of drinks.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Spot, and then Jack, get to their feet.
She didn't need their help.
"Sir," she began, "if you'll kindly unhand me…"
"I'd much rather you keep me company," was his deep reply.
"Well, I get paid to wait the tables, that's it." Fawkes had noticed that there were other ladies who frequented the place who had more questionable occupations. Had he confused her with one of them?
"That's fine," the man rumbled.
"I don't think you understand." Fawkes stomped hard on his foot and jumped out of his grasp, "There are other tables that need waiting on."
The man didn't pursue her and Fawkes continued to the next table.
Tonight just wasn't her night.
Another guy got grabby. The first guy saw and they got in a shoving match. Fawkes rolled her eyes and prepared to dive into this mess.
She pulled back at the last second as the drunks crashed through a table. If she joined the brawl, they'd only destroy more things. Medda would not appreciate that.
Fawkes eyed the crowd, they looked the blue collar type. The stage was in between sets. She'd seen out west that a strong voice could stop a brawl. It was a long shot.
"Near Banbridge town in the County Down
One morning last July
From a boreen green came a sweet colleen
And she smiled as she passed me by
She looked so sweet from her two bare feet
To the sheen of her nut-brown hair
Such a coaxing elf sure I shook myself
For to see I was really there..."
Fawkes's voice was low and tentative at first. She couldn't afford to be timid. She had to be bold. Only a strong voice would get and hold their attention.
By the time she'd hit the chorus, the fighters had stopped. They were watching her, their jaws on the floor.
Fawkes knew she couldn't stop. She saw Medda rush onstage. The Swedish Meadowlark joined in time for the second verse, and by the second chorus, half the place was singing the song.
At the end of the song, the two brawlers were escorted out and Fawkes did her part to clean up the mess.
The next act went on and Fawkes continued on her way.
She didn't get far.
Medda found her near the bar, "What was that?"
Fawkes looked at the floor, "I didn't want them to the destroy the place. I did the first thing I could think of to distract them."
Medda grabbed the girl's chin and forced their eyes to meet, "You did well. That was quick thinking." She paused, "Also, how come you never told me you had a set of pipes like that?"
"I didn't know," Fawkes whispered. "I sing to myself mostly. Quietly. At night."
"All this time you've been barely scraping by as a newsie? You coulda been working here. I could give you your own act."
"I don't know if I could do that," Fawkes admitted. She used to sing to herself out west to pass the time, but she couldn't make a career out of it. It was the moment of panic that had given her strength.
"Finish your shift out here tonight, but tomorrow I want to see you backstage." Medda grinned at Fawke's panicked look, "We'll try you out with one song, see how it does. If the folks like you, and fear hasn't stopped your heart completely, we'll discuss it more."
Fawkes nodded and Medda returned to the stage.
Jack was the next to speak to her, "I haven't heard you sing since-" He was all smiles.
Fawkes shrugged him off. She knew full well. Back when her identity wasn't a thing she needed to hide. She used to sing to the little ones in the Newboys Lodge in Manhattan. It used to send them off to sleep easier.
She used to sing in Brooklyn too. Which is why she couldn't look at Spot.
The song she'd chosen, Star of the County Down, was a traditional Irish song. There were a lot of Irish in Brooklyn, so maybe he wouldn't think it peculiar. Her name wasn't overtly Irish. She just had her red hair to give her away.
When Spot did not approach her, Fawkes knew she'd finally done it. She'd confirmed his suspicions. She'd outed herself. If he hadn't followed her here, he might not have figured it out. Fawkes refused to let herself look for him, to try to explain. He was probably halfway to Brooklyn now, rounding up a posse.
At the end of her shift, Fawkes trudged out into the night.
"I don't know why I didn't see it earlier."
Fawkes nearly jumped out of her skin. Spot was in the shadows of Irving Hall, leaning up against a box of old props. Part of her wanted to deny it. Part of her didn't know if she could.
"See what?" She decided to ask.
"Your beef with Brooklyn. It was a dead giveaway." Spot sent a sidelong glance in her direction. Even though he had a baby face, there was wisdom in those eyes. She wasn't going to be able to slip anything past him. Not now that he was wise to who she was.
"How come you're here and not on your way to Brooklyn to get reinforcements?" Fawkes wondered, feeling frozen in time.
"How do you know I haven't already been?"
"I don't," she admitted. "But why would you be wasting your time chatting with me if you had?"
Spot pushed off of the wall and approached the girl. His face was still obscured by shadow. "I guess I want to give you the benefit of the doubt. Everybody in Brooklyn thinks they know how it went down, but of the people who were there, the only one we can talk to is you."
Fawkes wished she could see his face. She'd be able to gauge what he was thinking better. "Why would you believe me? The rest of Brooklyn wants to hang me. They don't want to know the truth."
Spot laughed at the flint in her voice. "That's the reason it took me so long to recognize you. You're tougher now."
Fawkes made a face, "Can you blame me? I had to be."
"Why'd you come back if you knew my boys had it out for you?"
"This is the easiest port of call to get out of. I'm wary of Brooklyn, but there's other boroughs I can make a living in."
"You're supposed to be in jail."
"I was. You think Jack's the only one who can escape?"
"Jack's crime was nothing compared to yours," Spot noted.
"Suddenly you know so much about me," Fawkes squared off against him, folding her arms.
"In your cowboy outfit and new personality, you're almost unrecognizable. The short hair and pretending to be a boy helps too, but the singing gave you away."
"Yeah?" There was a challenge in her voice.
"I was on my own for the first time when you were last in Brooklyn. You used to sing to the kids who weren't used to being without their parents."
That's why she remembered his name!
"I used to have the biggest crush on you."
Fawkes took a step back. Was that why he kept asking her to dinner? She'd thought it was so much more sinister.
When she didn't say anything, Spot continued, "Turns out, I've got a thing for redheads."
The girl couldn't bring herself to grin. She shook her head instead. "Now that you think you know who I am, what are you going to do about it?"
There should have been fear in her voice. Instead, there was hint of a fight. Spot knew she could hold her own. He was soft on her. He wasn't going to rat her out. It was only going to be a matter of time before his boys found out. "I'm not going to do anything. What's done is done. If not for you, I wouldn't be in charge of Brooklyn now. But it's not safe for you to stay in the city. You should get out."
Fawkes balked, "Don't tell me what to do. Me and Jack started this strike. You can bet we're going to see it through to the end."
"Our picture is in the papes now," Spot replied. "You're wanted. Jack too. How long before the folks that want you come round to collect you?"
Fawkes hated that he had a point.
"Jack wants to rally here. Do you think it's a good idea?"
"I think it's a good idea to have an exit strategy," Fawkes said. She'd talked it out with Jack. So far, Denton's Sun was the only paper covering them. They needed to go big to get the city's attention. A rally with every newsie in the city was a lot of bodies. Someone would have to notice.
Fawkes was keenly aware of Spot's words. People would notice them, and not people they wanted. There were a ton of newsies though. They might provide just the right amount of anonymity. The cops would have to get through a lot of newsies to get to them. That just might give them the time they needed to get away.