HELLO PLANET EARTH!

Oh my goodness I cannot express in words how busy I've been. The infuriating part- I had three fourths of this done in a couple days but I could never find the time to write the next page or so! Sorry.

Thanks for some of the favorites and reviews- they make me so happy! I'm actually editing this about half an hour before my choir concert right now so... I went to an art contest and got an excellent (2nd best rating you can get) and the piece was actually Peter Pan inspired which explains some parts of this chapter. I was also feeling like a piece of internet trash which explains other parts of this chapter. I apologize. But let's be honest, we're all internet trash.

3 Enjoy!

When Zoey woke her face was warm, and her injuries from the past two nights didn't hurt very much at all. She guessed that the sunlight shining through the window next to her was to blame for interrupting her sleep. Zoey opened her eyes and squinted at the piercing light, fighting the strong urge to sneeze. Eventually her eyes adjusted to the bright light and she pushed herself up into a half sitting position.

Spot was nowhere to be seen, and Zoey was far past trying to fool herself into thinking this was all a dream. For now, this was her only reality. Seriously though, she thought to herself, it's time for coffee.

Zoey wandered out of Spot's room, peeking around the corners until she realized that no one was in the lodging house. Her bag was where she had left it in the smaller bunk room and she quickly slipped out of her fuzzy pajama pants and into the dress that had been borrowed to her yesterday. She figured it only made sense to blend in a little bit, even if she didn't plan on spending much time here.

Eventually she made her way to the small kitchen area, which was surprisingly stocked decently. When she snooped through the cupboards she found sugar and a few spices, along with jars of preserves, a hunk of bread, rice, flour and, much to her delight- coffee.

It wasn't Starbucks, but she mixed up her coffee pretty well if she did say so herself. All she would need is a little bit of creamer, but sugar would have to do for now.

When her soul was all warmed up she decided to take a peek outside and see if any of the boys were lurking around the area. It was still morning- about ten o'clock if she had to guess, and the air held a chill. The boys must still be selling papes, otherwise she heard from conversations last night that the Brooklyn newsies often hung out by the docks. People walked past and didn't give her a second glance, as if she belonged here.

She was reminded abruptly that she didn't.

A cold damp hand grabbed her arm roughly, pulling Zoey into the alley. In a corner of her mind she was astonished on how just a couple of walls could make bright daylight seem like it was night. She fought against the arm that held her, and managed a hard smack against her assailant's face. She was let go and the sudden lack of support caused her to fall into the wall behind her. To her surprise her abductor wasn't some large, burly man; he was quite handsome and only looked about seventeen or eighteen.

"Careful there chickie," he said, rubbing his cheek. "You ought'ta be careful about who you go around slappin'. Could get yourself in troubles." His voice spoke as if they were merely joking around, but his eyes spoke volumes and only sent one message to Zoey's brain: Dangerous. She decided not to answer, she didn't know what he wanted from her but she doubted she could defend herself without any of the Brooklyn Boys.

"So this here's the famous Brooklyn girl, eh?" He took a step closer. "Spot Conlon's got himself a new pet, well that can't be that much fun of a job, considering his abundant attitude towards the ladies…" He drifted off and she couldn't help but notice that while his accent was strong, his grammar and vocabulary made him sound educated.

"I'm nobody's pet," she replied, trying to put as much venom into her words as possible. "So if you don't mind, I'm leaving. Lovely cha-" Her steps towards the entrance to the alley were halted by the boy's arm.

"Then how'd you like to do business with me?" he asked, his smile still failing to slip from his face.

"Who are you?"

"Keep an eye on Spot, and I'll make it worth your while." His eyes flashed as if daring her to reject his offer.

She straightened her back and stood her ground. "No thank you." She made sure there could be no mistaking her tone.

"We'll just have to see if you'll change your mind next time I ask, won't we?"

Zoey tried not to shake, she resisted the impulse to squeeze her eyes shut and crouch down. "It won't," she said.

There it was, just a little twitch in the corner of his mouth. So his smile was false, she thought. Good.

"Thank you for your time, Miss Zoey." he gave a gallant mock bow, and spun on his heel, walking down the street with his cap pulled low.

She could see the docks, and distantly hear some of the boys jabbering about an interesting sale they had made. She climbed down a ladder and walked down one boardwalk, following her ears. When she came upon the boys, some of them quieted down, but resumed their conversation all the same. Long legs nodded to his left, as if he knew why she was here.

She didn't know why she felt unsettled to see Spot, maybe it was because of his witnessing her at her weakest. She took a deep breath and made her way through small groups of boys to the end of the dock where a pile a crates sat. Spot sat on top of one, aiming at something with a slingshot. A second later she heard a bottle shatter somewhere behind her. A few of the older boys sat around him also, chatting and laughing loudly.

"You look lost, Dizzy." Zoey hadn't realized she was looking at her feet until his voice made her look again. She searched his face to see if he was going to treat her different from now on, but she saw none. The message was clear, no one would know and it wasn't a big deal. Perfect. She gestured with her thumb towards an overhang that looked more private. Spot rose his eyebrows as if to say 'why should I?' It only took one serious look from her though to get him reluctantly moving.

"Whaddya want?" His hands stuck in his pockets, leaning against a wooden pole with his cap tilted slightly to the side… it amazed her all over again. Another time.

"Some guy picked me off the street earlier. Know anything about it?"

Spot's eyes widened, then narrowed in anger. "What are you talkin' about? None of my boys would dare-"

"I don't think it was one of your boys, cupcake."

He rose an eyebrow. "Cupcake?"

She shrugged in return. "Dizzy?"

He ignored her. "What did he look like? What'd he say?"

"He was tall, but not as tall as Long-legs, and had dark blonde hair… I don't know, it happened really fast."

"Did he say what he wanted with you?" She could sense a storm coming, in the way Spot spoke.

"He…" she paused, wondering if this had been a good idea after all. "He said I should keep an eye on you."

Spot swore and kicked over a small pile of boxes. "What else?"

"I'm- I don't…" His voice was so intense she trembled.

He grabbed her shoulders firmly, giving her a small shake. "What did he say?!"

"Nothing, just that you…" Had a temper… "That I was your new pet or somethin'.

Spot let out a harsh breath. "Fuckin' Harlem!" He began pacing. "Lousy rats, tryin' to infiltrate my territory- my property." He stood still once more, and paused. "I'll kill 'em. Let them try and mess with me again. I've got more boys than they do, we'll soak 'em!" He made as if to head back towards his group, but she stopped him with a hand on the shoulder.

"You can't do that! Starting some sort of war with these kids, what do you think it'll do?"

"I'm not gonna just sit around and let some nobodies disrespect me. Twice in about twentyfour hours too!" He looked her up and down. "You need ta' learn some respect around here. It's a dangerous world on these streets, you wouldn't wanna be left out on 'em." He leered at her, "Somebody not so nice might decide to pick you up insteada me. So don't piss me off."

She smacked him across the left side of his face. "Don't you talk that way to me! I may not be a boy but I'm probably smarter than all of you combined!" Except in biology… "So what, a guy talked to me. I didn't even have to tell you about it! And nothing would have happened because I said no, so just leave it be. And maybe, if you spent more time keeping your 'territory' secure," she said, making quotations with her fingers on territory, "instead of littering this place with broken beer bottles, this wouldn't have had to happen in the first place! I have essentially been through hell and back," she said, only exaggerating a little. "For all I know I am in hell which means I'm gonna be stuck with you for the rest of my days. Do you think I enjoy your stupid James Dean attitude, walking around like you own everything?"

"I do own everything," Spot spoke before she could continue. "I own this whole area, don' matta if I gots the papers to prove it. Everyone knows who I am and who to pay respect to. I. Own. Everything. Even you, the looney of the town."

"You know nothing." Jon Snow. She really needed to get all these fandoms out of her head. "You own nothing," she said. "You're just a little blip on a timeline, for all you know you may not even exist. And you're definitely no better than everyone else here trying to make a living."

Spot opened his mouth, then shut it again. He was clearly furious beyond belief, and she was terrified. In a moment of heated anger she had forgotten that wasn't just the boy who had somewhat comforted her through her nightmares, but the boy who beat a boy senseless with a golden-tipped cane. He moved and Zoey flinched in response, sure that he was going to throw her in the water- dead or alive.

He walked away, his stance that of a person to be feared. It was clear how he had become leader. He didn't just become a favorite, he had fought his way to the top. She couldn't see him anymore, and when he had been out of sight for about a minute she sank to her knees. Soon her whole body was shaking with sobs, she wanted her bed, she wanted Clarice, and her cat, and to be honest she could definitely use a margarita or two. Or three. She was probably missing what would be her English class right about now, she had a paper that was due in three days, 'What is Happiness'. Clarice had shaken her head when Zoey told her the title, because of course only she would pick a subject on something like that.

Eventually when she was all dried out, and weak with a headache, she looked up. Long-legs stood, watching her with a careful expression. His arms were crossed and it looked like he would rather be anywhere than where he was right now.

"What's up?" she asked, trying to crack a smile. He stood still and didn't say anything, only shaking his head. Slowly she stood up, wobbling on her legs that had fallen asleep under her.

"No offense Long-legs, but I'd like to be alone," she said. She brushed off her knees and wiped her eyes. No makeup today had been a good idea.

Long-legs shook his head again.

"Listen, nows not a good time, so bother me later, okay?" Her voice sounded like shit, even to herself.

Long-legs sighed and gestured forward, past him. Zoey stared hard at him.

"What's going on? At least tell me."

Long-legs held out his hands in a helpless gesture, shaking his head all the while.

'I can't.' seemed to be the only message he was capable of sending. Zoey was filled with a rage. "Take me to Spot. Now." That seemed to be something that Long-legs could do, and his face looked relieved. He quickly climbed up the ladder and together in silence they made their way back to the boarding house. Even though Zoey knew the building was filled with many boys, it seemed eerily empty and dark.

Zoey shoved past Long-legs and pushed open the door forcefully with a twist of the knob. There were only a few boys in the lounge room, all of whom lowered their eyes and didn't look at her. She recognized one that she had been introduced to some way or another, a ginger boy with fine features. Zoey caught his gaze but he quickly shook his head in an alarmed way and directed his gaze elsewhere.

It was obvious to Zoey that they were too scared to speak to her. And she had an idea why. She marched past the waiting Long-legs and walked up the stairs, to where she knew he'd be waiting. Her hand was stretched out, ready to pound on the dingy green door until he came out to get his ass kicked. She was a step away from the door when she heard moans and other… un-holy noises that she'd rather not hear now.

Disgusting. Her stomach roiled and her head hurt, maybe the coffee she had brewed this morning had been bad. Deep inside Zoey knew that wasn't it, but she didn't have time for that now. Who cares? She thought, He's not even real. She shook her thoughts away and pounded on the door.

"Scram!" she heard Spot shout in an annoyed voice. Zoey stayed, and hit her fist upon the door again, trying to block out the girl's voice she also heard through the door.

She heard a muffled grumbling and what sounded like someone getting up from a bed. Her stomach turned once more, the back of her brain telling her this was a bad idea and that she should leave. She had felt like this the first time she stole her mom's second car for the night, when she was fifteen. A large part of her wanted to run- now, but it was too late. The door opened and a girl maybe a year younger than Zoey scurried out of the room, a deep blush in her cheeks. Zoey rose her eyebrows as Spot leant against the door, messily put on trousers and an unbuttoned shirt.

For a moment Zoey was lost in thought, she still couldn't get over how different clothes were here. Despite his status on the social food-chain Spot dressed more nicely than most teenagers she had met. His hair was unruly though, and while not dirty his face didn't have the beautiful clean pores and light skin she was used to seeing. His mouth… was smirking at her in a way that set her bones on fire. Zoey crossed her arms in a defensive manner and set her best glare on him. She just couldn't believe how full of himself he was, and without any shame. She'd known boys and girls like him before. Zoey could see it in all his manners, he got any girl he wanted and people usually listened to what he said, like a natural gravitational point. Except it didn't scare her.

Because she was like him.

All her life, until she forcibly made herself unpopular. Clarice had once described it as being in the presence of royalty, people were just drawn to her. So if anyone is a match for him… it's me, she thought.

Even she couldn't stare him down very long though, his eyes held a spark she had lost long ago. She didn't hid from his gaze, but it did unnerve her. If she stared at him long enough he no longer seemed human. When she looked at him two words popped into her mind, neither quite fully becoming; Beautiful- said one part of her mind, the other said: Twat.

"So whaddaya want?" he asked, in a carefree tone. He spoke as if she hadn't interrupted -well- what she interrupted, and like they hadn't just shouted words at each other only an hour or so ago.

"An explanation," she said. "For why Long-legs is more silent than usual, and to know why your boys act like they'll spontaneously combust if they look me in the eye."

She took satisfaction in the way his face went screwy for a second when she used terms he wasn't familiar with. Zoey made a mental note of words and terms that could confuse him in the future. 'Ratchet, 'Aint nobody got time', subtweet, Miley Cyrus…'

"Maybe 'cos they're smart."

"So what, I tell you what's right one time and now you're gonna 'soak' anybody who wants to speak to me?" The nerve. She knew fourth graders who were more mature than him- strike that- kindergartners.

"Let's just call it a coincidence." So anyone who talks to her would 'just happen' to have a black eye the next morning?

"Why not just make it official, huh? You might as well."

"Because it's not fun that way."

"Who do you think you are, Peter-fucking-Pan?! You're acting like a child!"

"Well you're acting like a idiot!"

She took a deep breath. "It's an idiot, and you might know that if you weren't one yourself!"

"How abouts I just throw you on the street then, huh? We'll see how long you last."

Zoey knew her eyes were about to shoot firebolts. "Anything on the street must be better than here. Maybe I'll go to that guy, what'd you say- a Harlem boy? Maybe he'd be more inclined to my opinion of things."

In a second he was in front of her, fingers gripping her chin. Zoey's heart beat wildly and her eyes squeezed closed momentarily of their own accord, but she didn't let loose a sound. She looked defiantly into Spot Conlon's eyes.

"Just try it," he said. "I dare you. See how long you last ova there. Theyse nothin' but trash."

"I don't know," she said her voice raised and sarcastic. "He seemed awful nice, and well dressed too. Actually quite handsome, I'd give him a 8.5 out of-"

He let go of her chin, a murderous look of disgust upon his visage. "Go then," he said. "Go and try it."

Zoey took a shaky step backwards, but her face never faltered. "Maybe I will."

She walked the few steps to where the stairs led down to the main room. Her hair wasn't particularly bouncy or shiny thanks to no conditioner, but it was still voluminous and she flipped it over her shoulder the best she could as she turned to look at him an eyebrow raised in a defiant glare that she knew would strike him to the bone.

"Bye Felicia."