When I got to the bunks no one spoke to me. I guess I probably had an air of danger around me. Maybe it was because I was furious at Spot for volunteering me, maybe it was because when I tried pumping water to wash the blood off my fingers I accidentally broke the pump, tearing it out.

Oops.

Well anyways, I was upset that now I was being watched from a distance. Duke came up to me cautiously, ready to turn around if I got annoyed.

"Eya, Erin, I'se want ta tawk wid ya." He looked nervous like he was doing something wrong.

"What?" I asked curiously.

"Well," he sat down beside me on my cot, "I'se just wanna give ya some advice when fighting tamarrow."

I nodded and waited. He held his hands together like he was going to pray. "One: don't underestimate Spencer. He's fast, almost as fast as Spot and he is dangerous wid a knife."

Something about Spencer made me nervous every time I was near him. It was like he was older than he appeared. Anyways, this just made me feel more nervous to fight him.

"Seriously, Erin, don't feel bad about beatin' up a kid, You'll be lucky if ya leave a fight wid him alive."

Gee, thanks I thought. I knew what he meant though so I just nodded.

"An' wid Christopher, I'se warnin' ya do not trust him under any circumstances. Honestly, he's da woist. Watch out for knives an' don't let him fool ya. He's vicious."

I nodded again.

"This is going to be a big fight then, huh?" I sighed feeling sick to my stomach.

"Don't be ridiculous," Duke argued, "it'll be a big blood bath."

"You're really not helping with the whole comforting thing."

"Hey, I was saying you'd be killin ev'ry one."

"Me?"

"Yeah, youh an amazin' fighta'!"

"Er, well thanks but my competition—"

"Is history," he finished. I rolled my eyes and punched him in the shoulder.

"Rest up," he advised. "Tamorrow's da big day!"

"Urg," I groaned. He chuckled and patted my back while rising.

I barely slept a wink and when the sun started coming I tried getting a few moments of sleep.

The predictable touch of Spot's hand to awake me was irritating.

I sat up blearily and stared straight into his cool grey blue eyes.

"Just. Five. Minutes. Is that too much for you? Five. Minutes. I'm going to die today so I'd appreciate a little bit of rest."

He watched with attention as though I were passing on information not raving in my exhaustion.

"Okay," he answered with a straight expression. His eyes were unreadable as usual.

I fell back on my pillow and was out cold.

I wrestled in my sleep, fighting a shadow. Probably preparing for the fight.

Too soon, the same hand shook my shoulder gently.

"Spot, I said five minutes!" I moaned.

"I gave ya thirty," he answered calmly.

What? I sat up only to find I was no longer in my bed. Spot had carried me to the docks. I noticed we surrounded by a hoard of boys I've never seen in my life.

"Spot? Why are we at the docks?"

"Fo' da fight, Erin. Don't tell me ya foigot." I think he was trying to be funny.

"Why here?"

"Da last winner gets ta choose the next fightin' arena. An we'se always win."

I felt the pressure rise. Great so now I have to keep up some sort of tradition of winning?

A familiar face approached grinning ear to ear.

"Eya Erin, long time no see," Racetrack greeted, eying Spot with reverence.

"Hi Race, how are you?"

"Not bad. Ready ta make some money. Just checkin' ta see if youh ready."

"Well I just woke up, but I suppose any time is good as always."

"Dat's da spirit," he chuckled. I could see him hesitate as though he'd like to say more, but Spot cleared his throat loudly.

"Let da games begin," he said, cuing Race to leave.

I stood up yawning and stretching. Twisting to face Spot I stuck my tongue out at him.

"So was I heavy?"

"It wasn't da foist time I carried ya," he replied.

"Last time I was spilling me blood all over you," I shot back.

"True," he grinned, "but you happen ta be a light poi'son an' I happen ta be a strong one."

Arrogant as always.

"Wish me luck?" I asked.

"You have the luck o' the Irish, kid." It felt good to hear him speak our language. It made him remind me of home.

Before I could stop myself I leaned forward and hugged him tightly.

"Thank you!"

When I pulled back he was looking real smug. I decided that I'd let this one go because I was worried I'd throw up from the fear.

I began to make my way to the wooden planks when I bumped into someone.

"Sorry!" we said at the same time. I snickered and yawned.

The boy looked at me curiously, "Up awl night?"

"Maybe," I yawned again. It was his turn to snicker. "Excited for the fight?" I asked tiredly.

"Yeah, I can't wait ta see Conlon's man. I heah he's a killer."

I kept a straight face and looked straight ahead. "You could say that." Boy was he going to be disappointed. "So who're you in league with?"

"Ya don't recognize me? I suppose dat's a good ting. I'm Christopher, pleasure ta be your acquaintance." He bowed politely. For the first time I looked at the person I was talking to.

I saw he was a handsome fellow with lemon colored hair and blue eyes that were warm.

I couldn't see this boy harming a fly.

"So you're fighting today?" I asked weakly.

"Dat's da plan. Glory fo' me an' me boys!"

"Hm." This boy seemed so harmless I felt bad having to fight him, but I had to remember Duke's advice.

We walked past a gang of boys wearing black jackets and pants, they wore dark expressions and had shifty glances. When Christopher and I passed them I could hear quiet "good lucks" passed.

These were Christopher's boys.

Next to them were some of Spot's boys, and at the very edge were Spencer's boys. They were sitting by the docks in peace, tossing knives back and forth and laughing.

The loudest group was up front and most recognizable. Manhattan. They weren't all there, just some of the older boys. Cowboy caught my eye and nodded. Soon a few others saw me and watched intently.

I could pick out Blink's one good eye glaring.

We got to the end of the docks. I saw Spencer at the end. Arms held behind his back confidently.

"Evenin' gents, ready for da fight?" His eyes were bored, like he thought this was an easy win.

"We'se still waitin' for Conlon's man," Christopher answered impatiently.

Spencer made eye contact with me, smirking. Creepy!

"I'se tink he's right next to you."

Christopher turned to me slowly.

"Youh Spot's representative?"

"That's me."

He grinned wickedly, "Well den, sorry 'bout what I'm gonna do ta ya."

"Likewise."

He threw his head back and laughed good naturedly.

"All right, gentlemen. Da foist boys ta fight aw Spencer an' Erin. Make youh bets now, boys!"

While walking, I noticed Manahttan watch me with astonishment.

Spencer was gripping a knife in his left hand and began stepping sideways. I also took steps to the side keeping the knife in my sight as well as watching his foot position, the bend in his knees, and his eyes. In a flash, he darted at me. I reacted too slowly, and he had me pinned.

I could see a triumphant smile spread across his face as he began punching my face. I felt my nose start to bleed and my lip split. The salty rust taste of blood entered my mouth.

That was enough. I struggled beneath his scrawny grip.

I managed to throw him off and rise. In a quick fluid movement, I got him in the stomach and jaw. He flew to the ground like a rag doll. I felt a wave of horror hit me. Was he dead?

He jumped right back up and whipped the knife out. I became alert as he charged me knife pointed at my chest.

I side stepped at the last moment getting grazed at my side. I felt warm blood drip from me.

This had to end now. He turned ready to charge again but I grabbed both of his arms to his surprise and head butted him. That was stupid because it hurt my own forehead but it looked like I did the job. His eyes rolled back and he was out cold. I watched him slowly slump in my arms, his knife slipped out of his cold small hand.

The audience erupted with cheers, but I could hear Spencer's clan making hissing sounds.

Race came and raised my hand into the air only it was the arm that was next to my wound so I winced. Noticing this, he quickly dropped my hand.

I was still holding up little Spencer. Trying to be respectful, I carried him to his boys. I handed him over receiving cold glares and quiet threats.

I went back to the docks wiping blood off my face.

Racetrack handed me a cloth. I thanked him and began cleaning up. Spot went up to me while I was doing this.

"Christopher says he want you if he wins." He whispered so only I could understand.

"why me?" I spat blood out of my mouth.

"You're a good fighter, Erin. Anyone would want that."

I shrugged unconcerned. "Well I guess I better win, then."

He smirked, "I'm countin' on it."

Once I was ready to fight again, Christopher made his way to the docks.

I still could not see him being a killer.

"Ev'ryone place yer bets! Ready, set, Fight!"

"Dis might hoit a littul," Christopher warned politely.

I rolled my eyes. But I didn't realize how fast he was. I felt a good punch hit me between the eyes. My head went spinning and I fell backwards.

I knew I had to move or there'd be more of that. I rolled over avoid a fist in the stomach. I could hear his hand make contact with the wood. I rose shakily and gave him a few punches. My only problem was he was strong. They hardly hurt him. Spot told me how to deal with these boys.

As he said: da bigga' dey aw da hawder dey fawl.

I remembered how Spot had tricked me in our first fight. And then I had a brilliant plan. I went behind Christopher in a flash, confusing him. He started throwing punches at me and I began taking steps back. He didn't see that he was herding me to the edge or it would appear so.

My plan was ready until his last punch had a gleam to it. I felt a burning pain in my face.

He had reopened my scar. What nerve!

He saw my outrage and smirked. I sneered right back, taking his wrist holding the weapon.

"You die right now." I hissed. He looked startled as I pulled him hard, removing the knife from his grip and throwing him to his watery end.

His head popped out of the waves looking very displeased.

"What? Don't like wata?" he asked tauntingly.

I narrowed my eyes jumping in, knife out. I was ready to swing when he surprised me by grabbing my waist and drawing me near. It is the opposite of what you're supposed to do in a fight. He saw my confusion and grinned. I could feel something cold and sharp press against my back.

His white teeth flashed out at me.

"Seven," he whispered confusing me. "Six. Five. . ."

It hit me. The count down! I couldn't move, the knife was too close and it was slightly pointed up to prevent me from slipping down.

Damn him!

"Three," he yelled for the audience, "Two!" I tried fast thinking. Come on! Spot's going to kill me! "ONE!"

I sighed, dropping my head. Christopher released me and began swimming off.

"Coming?" he called when he saw I hadn't budged.

"No reason to. There's nothing left for me up there." I scowled into the filthy water, watching in fascination as my own blood spread around me.

He laughed warmly and grabbed my wrist. "Youh commin' wid me."

Still looking into the water, the spirit knocked out of me, I waited for him to lug me up.

I felt the sun being blocked from above me. Looking up miserably I saw Spot's blue grey eyes filled with disappointment.

There were no words to express my apologies.

Race held up Christopher's hand. "Da winner!" His call was followed by absolute silence. Even with their victory, Christopher's boys merely watched with disinterest.

I looked longingly at my Brooklyn friends, and sadly at my Manhattan friends. They all looked shocked and angry. I couldn't tell why, though.

Spot was still staring with an emotionless expression.

"So Spot, I guess I'll be leavin' wid me trophy," Christopher began not loosening him grip on my wrist.

I felt my eyes wander to Spot fearfully.

"Spo-" I began, but he cut me off.

"Christopher, how bout ya let 'im get a few a his belonging's back at da lodge house? Ya know sentimental t'ings."

I looked up at my new leader to be hopefully. He chewed on the thought carefully.

"All right, But I'se following' ya ev'ry step a da way as well as me boys."

I glanced over at Christopher's boys who some how heard everything from a distance.

Spot nodded and yanked my arm away from Christopher.

"I've got a plan, girly."

I had completely forgotten about speaking a different language.

We started heading to the lodge house, getting suspicious looks from Christopher.

"Talk fast" I ordered nervously.

"You can disappear. The boy you. We'll set it up and then the girl you will live on."

"How will I die?"

"I already discussed it with Doc. You're going to jump from the top window, but Doc and Duke will catch you from the bottom. Then we'll apologize to Christopher, give him something else, and we're all happy."

"What do I do as a girl?"

"We'll wing it."

I felt nervous about the plan but what choice did I have.

We entered the lodge house quietly. I could see out of the corner of my eyes, Christopher's boys surrounding the building.

I lead Spot and Christopher upstairs to my room. The window at the end was opened, waiting. I gulped and looked into Spots eyes for a cue. He would not look up at me, he only stared off at the wall.

Christopher tapped his foot impatiently.

I went to my bed which happened to be at the end of the room. I didn't have much except a change of clothes, and some newspaper articles I found interesting.

I slowly folded them taking my time.

"Ya know," Spot's voice destroyed the silence. "We'se got udda stuff ya might be interested?"

Christopher turned to Spot annoyed.

"You know what I want, Conlon," he replied coldly. He was distracted! Quickly and stealthily I climbed through the window. I gave Spot a finally wink over Christopher's shoulder and let go of the ledge. I could hear someone yell above me, but it was too late. I felt myself land in the waiting arms of Duke and Doc quickly yanking me through the window. Then silence.

We waited. I could hear Spot trying to calm Christopher. It sounded bad.

"Quick!" hissed Doc. He shoved me into the water closet, throwing a bundle of something into my arms. It was a disguise.

I pulled off my boy clothes and threw on the white dress. I took off my hat and let down my shaggy reddish brown hair which fell a little past my shoulders. It was long enough to pass as feminine. I walked out and went to the dusty mirror. My face was still bloodied and scarred! Doc handed me a wet wash cloth to clean up with.

There were footsteps approaching.

Quickly we cleaned me up. I covered part of my face with hair to conceal my scar.

Duke and Doc gave me weak smiles and thumbs up.

The door opened and I hid in the water closet.

"Wheah is he? Wheah did he go?" Christopher demanded.

Spot walked behind him at ease. "I dunno, likely dead. I'd foiget 'bout dat boy. Always was a bit mad."

"What aw you two doin'?" Christopher demanded.

"Uh, jus' waitin' fo our friend ta finish usin' da toilet. Da rest a dem aw outta ohdah."

Duke would say that.

I could hear him walk up to the door of the water closet.

"Who's in dere?"

I summoned up my most feminine voice, "Sorry mate, just finishing up me buisness!"

I could sense he was startled by my voice but quickly regained his composure.

"You owe me, Conlon" he seemed to speak from his chest.

"What do ya want?"

"I'll be back in a week to let you know, don't expect me to forget about this Conlon. No one cheats me out of anything."

I gulped quietly. Once the door slammed shut I walked out. Spot's eyes appeared tired.

quite tired.

"Spot," I whispered walking towards him.

"Erin, it ain't youh fault," Duke began comfortingly.

"Dat ain't her name," Spot interrupted.

All three of us looked up at him as though he lost it.

"As fah as da rest a da woild is concerned youh name is Rose."

"Rose," I repeated. "Did you just make that up?"

"Yeah, so dat's youh new name. anyone calls you Erin, give 'em a good soakin'."

I nodded.

For the next five minutes we went over my whole life story. I was glad. Even though I would have to be someone else I was still with Spot and the rest of Brooklyn.