Thank you to my guest review and my review from TheWorldWillKnow! I definitely agree cutting off her hair would be easier, but she's impartial to her hair just like I am hehehe. Read on, my readers! Fighterr
The first thing I noticed about Spot Conlon were his eyes. They were so beautiful- clear, bright sea foam green, glowing against his tan skin. They were bright and clear, and I could easily get lost in them if I tried. The second thing I noticed about Spot Conlon was his fists coming straight for my face.
The walk over to Brooklyn had been tense, but with David, I wasn't the only new kid. I was silent for the majority of the time, the only talking came from Jack and Boots. The only things directed at me were muttered of warnings not to mess with Spot.
We walked across the bridge, and I noticed boys hiding in the shadows that jumped away as we passed them. They were Spot's birds, Jack told me. I didn't like it. It reminded me of the mafia.
Everything went smooth with the communication with Spot, the Brooklyn king, until he denied to help because he wasn't sure if we were serious or not. The boys were dignified in their response, but apparently nobody told me that rolling my eyes was a capital offence.
So I rolled my eyes.
"Hey," Spot spat. "Youse kid. What ya name?"
"Enzo," I said, my voice low.
"Youse tink youse can roll ya eyes at me, huh?" spat Spot again.
"Me? Rolling my eyes?" I responded, panicking a bit. "Nah, I was just trying to find your courage, seeing as you don't have it immediately on your person."
The crowd was silent. Jack's mouth was open. Boots look terrified. David looked terrified, but also slightly amused.
"Youse tink dat I don't have courage," exclaimed Spot. "Ise gonna give you a chance to apologize, because youse foreign and all. Im da king of Brooklyn, kiddo."
"Oh," I began, pissed off now. "My apologies to the king of Brooklyn. I hope you find your courage, soon."
I dodged the first few punches like a champ. But, one of his left hook-jab-uppercuts caught me right underneath my left eye. I recovered and kicked him in the ribs. After another minute, he caught me in the nose, and I heard a sickening crack. The boys pulled us apart. We were both breathing heavily, glaring at each other, blood dripping down my nose- when he smiled. That asshole kid smiled at me.
"Youse a good fighter, kid. Youse sure youse don't wanna stay in Brooklyn?" asked Spot. I felt a mix of pride and disgust.
"Nah," I responded.
"Maybe youse is ready to take on Pulitzer," pondered Spot. "We'll be in contact."
Jack nodded, practically glowing with pride.
"Thanks, Spot." Jack responded.
"Bye Jacky boy. Boots. Brain." Spot looked at me. "See ya, Prizefighter. Youse welcome in Brooklyn anytime."
I tried not to beam.
I nodded instead, and smirked. He mirrored my expression.
We walked to the bridge in silence, and then they all broke out in laughter. Jack hugged me and spun me around like a little kid. Boots was on his knees laughing so hard, and Davey beamed at me.
"Look like you won yourself a nickname, Prizefighter," Jack said.
"I didn't mean to cause trouble," I started.
"Whatever, Prize," Boots said, still laughing. "Ya did good."
"I'm buying ya dinner tonight," Jack said, wrapping his arm around me.
The walk back to Manhattan was light hearted, considering we were all involved with a strike that could easily turn bloody.
We walked into Tibby's, beaming. I had forgotten about my broken nose and bloody face until Bumlets and Race looked at me, horrified.
"What happened?" They asked at the same time, mouths open.
"Prizefighter here got into it wit Spot Conlon," Jack said.
"Prizefighter?" Bumlets asked, a grin creeping onto his face.
"Prizefighter, Prize, whatever." Boots cut in. "He got Spot to consider to help us."
"Damn," Race said, looking nearly proud.
"Wasn't a big deal," I said. Bumlets put a hand on my shoulder.
"Let's get ya cleaned up." He said, walking me towards the bathroom. "I'm proud of you," whispered Bumlets as we walked.
I turned around to see Race looking at me in awe.
"So is Race," added Bumlets.
I beamed hard.
"Thanks for teaching me how to fight," I said, barely a whisper.
"That's what family is for, Prize," he said, cleaning my face.
"Yeah," I agreed. "Family."