Christmas was been hard, but we had celebrated with the Meyers on Christmas Eve, which in the German tradition is the important holiday. On Christmas Day, Spot came over. It was weird at first, having him in our home, until I remembered that he spent a lot of time there with Jimmy. What was awkward was that Spot had obviously never celebrated Christmas before. I asked him about it as Papa took a turn with Jimmy in the alley. I was embarrassed to realize once more how little I knew about Spot.

"Nah, I've been on the streets too long," he answered. "I sorta remember me ma singin' some songs to me, but that's it."

"What happened to her?" I asked.

"Don't rightly know. I was little and don't remember a lot. I think she got sick. I know we lived in a cramped apartment with another lady and her kids. We were out playing and when I came back the lady dragged me outside and told me that me ma was gone and that I should leave. She didn't let me inside, just handed me a bundle and marched me over to a copper and left. I was five."

"Spot—" I started, unsure of what exactly to say.

"I was in a few orphanages for awhile, but they never worked for me. I musta been about seven when one of the older newsies took me in and taught me to sell papes," he continued. "I've been workin' ever since."

I just stared at him, not sure what to say. He glanced over at me and chuckled. "It ain't so bad, Cat. I got friends and respect. I found somethin' I'm good at. I even have some savings for the future. I got freedom. And when things get rough, I come see youse."

"How long ago was that?" I asked, realizing I didn't even know how old Spot was.

"Eight years," he responded with a grin. "I know me birthday is in the spring, and I will be sixteen. Don't know the exact day, though."

What does one say to that? My brain scrambled for words, and I latched onto one of his other comments. "You have savings?" I blurted out.

"Sure. We at da lodging house have a jar. Everyone puts a few pennies in there when they can so we can cover the boys who have a rough day or who get sick. Ise the leader. I gotta have extra to cover all the new kids and what the jar can't cover. I can't be a newsie forever, so I have another jar that's just for me."

"How much do you have?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"I aint tellin ya that! Let's just say I'm very good at selling newspapers and at saving me coins." He smiled at me.

Wow. I had no idea.

"I did spend a little on youse, though," he added, pulling something out of his pocket. I stared at him. I had not expected him to give me anything, but here he was, holding out a small package. I took it tentatively, opening it slowly. It was a necklace—a delicate silver chain with a small key pendant.

"It matches mine," he winked, holding up the leather thong with our house key on it. I chuckled, then gave him a swift kiss on the cheek as we heard the doorknob rattle. Papa walked in with Jimmy, his cheeks flushed with the cold.

"I have something for you, too, Mr. Fischer," Spot said, turning to Papa. I was astonished. He pulled out another package, handing it to Papa, who smiled.

"Thank you, young man," Papa said, smiling as he opened the box and pulled out a new pipe.

"We got you something, too," I remembered, jumping to my feet. I handed Spot the book we had gotten him, Memoirs of Great Leaders. Spot smiled at the title, then flipped it open to read the notes that Papa and I had each written to him on the inside cover.

"Thank you," he said softly, a smile playing on the corners of his mouth.

We may have been missing Mama, but Christmas of 1898 wasn't so bad.