I could feel everyone's concerned eyes follow me as I picked up papers from the distribution center. The previous day with Brooklyn's leader had put me a bad mood.
I only bought fifteen papers because I couldn't sell for the life of me.
I casually began to flip through the pages looking for a catchy headline. I heard one of the boys break away from the rest of the group and approach me.
"Hey," kid Blink called over my shoulder, "you'se okay?"
"Yes," I replied nodding my head, not even looking back. I could hear him sigh.
"Listen, if dere's anyt'in' you'se wanna say, you can always tell me, kay?"
I turned around and looked into his hazel eye. It reflected his concern and made me feel guilty.
"Sure." I answered, cracking a smile.
I felt heavy guilt from lying to my newest friend. After all, he had saved me and shared everything with me, and here I was deceiving him. But I made a promise to Papa, and it could never be broken.
I lifted my stack of papers and began to sell. After selling five, business slowed down fast. I didn't have the volume or lying skills the rest of the group seemed to share. My frustration grew to be too much. I angrily paced the cobblestone streets looking for a passerbyer that I could swoop down on and forcefully sell my paper to.
A boy turned the corner and began walking my way. I pulled on a warm smile and walked up to the lad.
"Excuse me," I called. He faced me with a peculiar expression on.
"Yeah, what?" he asked, not harshly but not welcomingly either.
"Do want to buy a paper?" I asked holding one out. "It's a special edition covering a murder."
He fingered his chin thoughtfully while looking down at me.
"Hm, youh new ain't you?" he asked.
I narrowed my eyes at him. "What's your point?" I asked, offended.
"Nuttin', I'se jus' good at tellin' weddah or not a newsie's new ta da job or not." He shrugged his shoulders, while his eyes shifted to my stack of papers.
"You still have a long ways ta go, I'll leave ya to youh business." He smirked and began to take another step.
"What about your paper?"
He paused. "I don't need one, thanks anyway!"
He bumped into me while walking. "'Scuse me," he apologized before continuing walking a bit faster.
I sighed sadly dropping my arm which held my paper. I stuck my hand in my pocket to finger the few coins I had earned, but to my surprise they were gone. Nervously I checked the other pocket which also was empty. I looked up at the street again, just as the boy turned the corner. He had picked my pocket! I thought to myself in outrage. I dropped my stack of papers and took off after the thief. He heard my approaching footsteps and began to sprint. I chased him down the street angrily slowly catching up.
"You're dead!" I called. He didn't respond in any way other than increasing his speed. I was gaining on him, and he knew this too because I saw his worried expression when he glanced behind him.
I finally managed to grab his collar and jump on him. I was piggy back ridding him trying to slow him down. He wildly flung his arms around trying to tear me off.
"Get off of me!" he cried. He ran up to a brick wall slamming me against it. I crumpled to the grimy floor as he flung me off his back.
"Give me my money," I hissed from the ground. I saw his smirk as he pulled coins out of his pocket.
"What, dis? Sorry, findas keepas, losahs weepas," he taunted me waving the money before me. I made snatches but he pulled back at the last minute.
"Rot in hell," I sneered in my native language. He raised an eyebrow while looking down at me.
I heard a small chuckle coming from behind the thief.
"Well, I see you two have been acquainted, den," A cold familiar voice said. The boy looked over his shoulder and I rose from the ground to see who had spoken. Spot stood calmly leaning against a wall opposite the one I was smashed against.
"S-Spot!" cried the boy, "what a pleasant surprise," he commented sounding as though he thought it wasn't pleasant at all.
"Pickin' pockets again, eh, Silias?" Spot inquired, his gaze flickering towards me for a second.
"Hey, I'se got a livin' ta make. You sell youh pape's an' I steal."
Spot nodded, "Yeah, I'se don't really like pick pockets, as you know, so I'se gonna ask ya nicely ta return the money to da nice boy an' apologize." Spot walked up to the lad so they were nose to nose except Spot had to look up because he was so short compared to the other boy.
The boy reached his hand into his pocket and grudgingly handed me the money.
I took it and immediately stowed it into my own pocket.
"And?" Spot spoke mockingly.
The boys eyes burned angrily at me, "I'se sorry," he spat through his teeth.
Spot smirked up at him.
"Dere, dat wasn't so bad, was it? Now be a good boy an run along," Spot waved him off dismissively. I thought the boy might take a swing at him, I know I would, but he merely nodded stiffly and trudged away.
"He loined long ago not ta mess wid me," Spot spoke, addressing my confusion.
"Oh, um, thank you," I replied tensely looking down at my feet. I knew if I saw that smirk one more time I would lose it.
"So why aw you'se walkin' round Queens? Ain'tcha hoid it's full a pick pockets, drunks, murderers, an' whatnot?" He sounded more amused than concerned.
"No I didn't hear that because I've never been to Queens before," I snapped. I began to walk away but he smoothly blocked my path with his cane. I looked over at him as he gave me a famous smirk.
"So dem 'Hattan newsies ain't teachin' ya da basic sovivial skills? I'se disappointed in Jacky-boy," he said in fake disappointment.
"What's it to you?" I asked irritably.
"Do I annoy you?" he asked slyly.
"Yes," I responded sternly.
"Hm, you'se must be da foist one ta answer dat question honestly," he mused to himself.
"I can't imagine why," I responded sarcastically.
He smirked again, causing my blood to boil. I tried stepping around his cane but he stepped in front of me.
"Conlon, what do you want?" I sighed exasperated.
His face became hardened and serious.
"I don't like dat tone," he almost snarled. He noticed my surprise to his mood swing and put on a new smirk. "Listen, I'll tell you why I'se heah if ya stop tryin' ta leave," he offered lowering his cane and replacing it in the loop of his pants.
I nodded my agreement and waited patiently for him to speak.
"I was thinkin' 'bout yesterday's fight," he began, "I'se noticed youh pretty good, an you neva tried ta hit me once."
"Except for the very beginning," I added.
"Right," he chuckled, "dat was da only time. Anyways, I like a kid that can fight like you can."
"What are you getting at?" I asked confused.
He rolled his eyes at me. "Can't even guess?"
"No."
"I'se offerin' you a place in Brooklyn."
"As a newsie?"
"No, as a bum. A 'corse as a newsie!"
"Under you?"
His eyes grew cold. "Is dat a problem?"
"No," I stuttered, "I just thought that all of your newsies had to be big scary guys."
He cracked a smile at this.
"Dat's just most a dem."
"Why would you want me?" I asked, thinking of all the reasons I shouldn't go.
"Because you'se can fight, an you'se got a rebellious streak dat I'se like, an you'se also speak my language which I'se thought would come in handy at times. Don't take dis offa' lightly dough. It's rare for me to let in a new newsie, let alone invite one in."
"Well, to be honest I can't sell that well," I said embarrassed.
He shrugged, "Everyone had a down side."
"What about Manhattan?" I asked, thinking of all my friends there.
"What about them?"
"They're my friends!"
"Aw you'se shuah?"
"Of course!"
He sighed disappointedly, shaking his head. "You'se already foigot rule numba t'ree?"
"Trust no one," I recalled, "but I can trust them, can't I?"
He looked at me skeptically.
"What?"
"How long have you known them?"
"A few days." He gave me a knowing smirk.
"Dat's not long enough ta trust someone."
"Well I've only known you for a day and you're asking me to join you," I contradicted.
He smirked again. "But I'se tellin' ya why I want ya. You know why you'd join me. Why do you think dey takin ya in? Come on, use youh brains! Dey're usin' you! Can't you see it?"
I looked at him coldly.
"They would never use me, they're my friends."
"Shuah, dey aw," he said sarcastically.
"Stop that!"
"Look, I'se jus' tellin' da truth. Now you can come wid me or you can take youh chances wid youh 'friends'."
I frowned, looking up at him.
"Can I have one night to think about it?"
"Shuah, but I'se gonna be expectin' you at da docks foist think in da moinin' wid an answer."
"Okay," I nodded my understanding. He gave a final smirk before walking away.
Sighing I trudged back to Manhattan.
The sky darkened and I found myself caught in the rain. I dashed back to the lodge house, but I could not avoid getting soaked.
After slamming the door behind me Racetrack and a few others looked up from a game of marbles. His cigar fell out of his mouth and he laughed loudly soon joined by the other boys.
"What?" I asked confused. Race simply pointed at me between chuckles.
"Ya look like a wet dog dat got beaten!" he roared, slapping the ground. I grimaced realizing this was the second day in a row I came back to the lodge house soaked.
"Yeah, well, what ever," I sighed, running up the stairs. My mind was overflowing with thoughts and I needed some space to think. I could hear their confusion in my quick exit but didn't care. I took my clothes from yesterday and put them on and let my wet clothes hang from the rafters.
Then I climbed up on Blink's and my bunk to ponder.
Should I trust Manhattan or Brooklyn. Manhattan hasn't proven to be disloyal, unlike Brooklyn. Spot's words flew through my head. His silky charming words pressured me to listen to him, but when I looked at the whole picture he was not to be trusted. After all he just wanted to use me, here I had friends . . . I think. No! They are my friends, Spot's trying to trick me.
I decided to decline his offer tomorrow. Feeling satisfied, I plopped off the bed and came down stairs. The boys were still playing marbles and a few more newsies came inside with the same wet condition as me.
Cowboy had water dripping off his hat and Crutchy was cautiously taking steps with his crutch, careful to not slip on the wet wooden floor boards.
"Evenin' boys!" Cowboy called getting greetings all around.
"Hey Cowboy," I called cheerfully.
"Heya Erin! How's it goin'?"
"I'm good," I responded automatically.
"My floors!" I heard a withered voice shriek. "Look what you've done!" Kloppman yelled jabbing a hand at the puddles we made.
"Sorry, Kloppman," Jack began, "I'm sure if ya mop it up it'll be just as g—"
"ME?" Kloppman hollered. "You guys can clean up your own messes! If this isn't cleaned up in the next hour I'll have all of your heads!" With that he angrily trudged to a room behind his counter, only to return with a bucket and two mops. He dumped them on the floor and left.
"Well den, who gonna help me?" Jack asked politely.
Everyone backed off making small excuses.
"I'se had a hawd day sellin' and I got me a mean papa' cut—"
"I'se alloigic ta mops—"
"I would but I promised ta teach da younga' boys how ta gamble—"
"I'll do it," I answered cheerlessly, taking the other mop from Jack's hand, to his relief. It only took half an hour to clean up the puddle. Once we finished Kloppman came in to inspect our work.
"Very good," he complimented, "now don't let it happen again!" he spoke harshly but gave me a quick wink before turning. After all that moping I was exhausted.
I crawled into bed next to Blink and groaned.
"Long day?" he asked nonchalantly.
"Yeah."
"It ain't gonna get bedda," he confirmed.
"That makes me feel just peachy," I sighed sarcastically.
"Just sayin'," he shrugged and went to sleep. I quickly followed his example.
I woke up early as usual and washed up. Instead of waiting for the others I silently tiptoed downstairs. Kloppman was up and raised an eyebrow in confusion.
"Getting an early morning walk," I lied. He nodded in understanding and I left. There was mist hanging in the air, making it nearly impossible to see. I shivered and set forth to Brooklyn. The mist was even worse on the other side of the bridge.
I finally made it to the docks, taking careful baby steps, so as to not accidentally walk into the water. I silently cursed the mist while walking to the end of the dock.
I looked around uneasily for a pair of stormy blue eyes or bright red suspenders.
"Welcome back," a voice in front of me began. My heart leaped to my throat and I clutched my chest.
"Jumpy fellow, ain't ya?" Spot chuckled.
"I didn't see you!" I said defensively, feeling silly.
"So what's your answer?" It took me a minute to figure out what he was talking about.
"Um, no."
"No, what?" he asked impatiently.
I shuffled my feet. "No, I'm don't want to join you."
I could hear him sigh. "Pity, such a waste of perfectly good talent."
I didn't know how to respond to that so I remained silent.
"Okay, um, bye . . . ?" I slowly began to walk away but he drew out his cane and approached me slowly. I gulped nervously.
"Um, could you put that thing away? It's making me a bit nervous." I stammered. He appeared amused but didn't lower the cane.
"Why won't you join me?" he asked his voice switched to that charming silky tone, the manipulative one.
"Because I don't want to be used," I snarled, backing away from him.
"I see," he said taking more steps to me causing me to take more steps back. "What it I make you an offer?"
"What kind of offer." I hadn't realized I had not been walking backwards in a straight line and one of my feet took a step back over the edge of the dock. I felt my body tilt towards the waters
And prepared to scream but something grabbed the collar of my shirt and pulled me up.
"Careful!" snapped Spot, impatiently pulling me forward. I bumped into him as he launched me away from the edge.
"Thanks!" I gasped, "what were you saying?"
I could see through the fog that he rolled his eyes and a smirk spread across his face.
"You join me, I'll teach ya how ta fight propa', like a man."
"Are you suggesting I'm not a man?" I asked indignantly, momentarily forgetting I wasn't one.
He smirked wider, "I'se sayin' you ain't got da fightin' skills of a man."
I bit my lip in concentration and felt my eyebrows furrow. New York was dangerous, as were the boys living there, I needed every ounce of help I could get. But did I really need Spot to teach me to fight?
"What makes you any better than Jack or Racetrack or Kid Blink?" I asked, adding Blink's name in.
His cold gray eyes peered back at me through the fog. "I'se da best fightah in awl of New Yoik," he spoke in a quiet powerful voice, "those amateurs don't got nuttin' on me!"
I felt a moment of fear but recovered instantly.
"Spot, no matter what you say I'm not joining you."
He stared at coldly for a few moments. Leaving me feeling vulnerable, I kept my gaze with his making my eyes gaze back firmly, even though I wanted to cower.
Eventually, his face settled into an indifferent expression. "Fine," he spoke smoothly, lowering his cane. I looked up at him cautiously.
"Really?" I asked surprised, I really didn't think he'd give up that quickly.
"Shuah, I'se not gonna drag ya ta Brooklyn, or anyt'in'. If you'se don't wanna join den don't." He answered, shrugging his shoulders.
I took a step from him, then another. "Okay, um, bye?" It came out as a question to his unreadable face.
"See ya later . . . Erin." His final words were like a cue to run. I didn't stop until I was at the distribution office where a few newsies were already coming in.
"Who were ya runnin' from dis time?" he asked sympathetically.
"Wasn't . . . running . . . from . . . anyone. Just . . . running!" I gasped between breaths.
He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. "You just ran? What, for fun?"
I nodded, trying to slow down my heart.
"Well, dat explains why youh so fast," he grinned down at me. "Need a minute?"
"No," I shook my head, "I'm good." I followed him to the window and bought 10 papers. He lugged his 50 over his shoulder.
"Kid, you'se ain't gonna make no money with that pathetic pile," he said, inclining his head to my stack.
"I can't sell as good as you," I replied embarrassed.
"You'll get into da hang of it. Ya just need ta loin ta lie, dat's awl."
He made it sound easy, but I come from a home where lying was never acceptable, and I had a terrible poker face to begin with.
I actually managed to sell everything before the eight. It was getting late, though. The gas lamps were already turned on.
I strolled down the dark streets heading back to the lodge house. It was still loud even at night. People were out getting home, buggys passed by noisily, and some factories were still at work. I tried following the familiar streets back home but the poor lighting made it difficult.
I knew it was bound to happen again.
I was lost.
My usually anxiety was replaced with annoyance at my stupidity.
I tried to figure out where I was. Turning around I saw the red bridge I crossed to get to Brooklyn. Maybe if I start walking from there it will jog my memory. It was worth a shot. I ran over and stopped in the middle.
I couldn't help but stop to appreciate the beauty of the view. It was breathtaking. I leaned against the metal sighing. My sensitive ears picked up the sound of someone approaching me. I was surprised by how close the person was and stepped back against the metal. I felt gravity pull on me and I fell backwards. Somehow my hand reached out and caught a metal bar. My heart was beating a mile a minute and sweat broke out on my forehead. A figure's head popped up from above.
"Well, what a surprise seeing you here," a cold voice stated calmly.
"Conlon," I snarled trying to pull myself up. I heard the metal moan in protest.
"Careful," he whispered coolly, "wouldn't it be a shame if ya fell?" I gulped and forced myself not to look down.
"Now I see two thing that can happen; one: I can help you, and two: you can take yer chances wid da wadah."
"Well what are you waiting for, help me!" I cried in impatience and fear.
"Well, I just thought you might be interested in the catch," he spoke slowly.
"What. Catch?" I asked in short breaths.
"You owe me if I save you. And do you know what I'd want?"
"I'm not going to Brooklyn," I snarled, trying to ignore the fact I was dangling over icy water.
"Well it makes sense doesn't it? I save your life, you use it to woik fo' me."
"I'll climb up myself!"
Even in the dark I could see his skeptical glance.
"I'll show you!" I immediately struggled to climb. My arms burned and shook, but I continued. He watch in amusement the whole time. After two minutes he spoke.
"Given up yet?"
"I'm taking a break," I hissed.
"Take youh time," he replied in exaggerated cheer.
I glares at nothing in particular and tried to pull myself up again.
"Damn you!" I swore in the language only he and I knew.
"I take dat to mean ya quit," he announced. I didn't respond but I could hear him reaching for me. My fingers began to slip from the metal. Of course they would now!
"Spot!" I screamed as I felt my fingers clench at air. I could hear him swear as I fell to the water. Hitting the water from up high was indescribably painful. My body burned and felt sore, which was only worsened when I swallowed salt water. My lungs were screaming in pain.
Fear welled up inside of me. I didn't want to die!
I saw a crash of bubbles nearby. They began to dissolve revealing a dark figure twisting through the water.
I widened my eyes in surprise, did Spot jump for me?
The figure's hand reached out for me and wrapped an arm around my waist. We rushed to the surface drinking in sweet air.
Both of us were breathing heavily, as I leaned against his shoulder shivering.
My arms instinctively wrapped around his neck in an unbreakable hold.
"Calm down, I've got ya!" he gasped. I then realized I was shaking uncontrollably.
He slowly made way for shore. After a long time we reached the docks.
"Thank you," I shuddered letting go once we were safe.
"Shuah," he shrugged wringing his hat out. I leaned my back against his, still out of breath.
"You win," I sighed.
"I awlways win," he replied nonchalantly.
I let silence envelope us momentarily. Only our breaths were heard.
"So now what?"
"Now, you go back to Jack and tell him you'se wid me. Got dat?"
I nodded sullenly.
"Good."
I still didn't get up.
"I ain't waitin' awl day." He warned.
I felt the hard wood of the dock make contact with my face.
The world slowly began to black out and the last thing I heard Conlon say was "Wha's da matta wid you?"
