The next day I raced over to Ingrid's after work. I couldn't wait to tell her my news.
"Guess what," I said breathlessly as she let me into their apartment.
"Merry Christmas to you, too," she laughed, and I gave her a dirty look. "You look like you are about to burst."
"Spot kissed me," I blurted out.
"About time," she said, and I stared at her. "Oh, come on, Katja. The two of you have been chummy for years. It was bound to happen sooner or later," she laughed.
"Ingrid, just because we've been friends—"
"Listen, Kati. When Spot is with you he is the person he could have been with a family. When he's with anyone else he's the great Spot Conlon, the toughest guy in Brooklyn and maybe all of New York," she said, rolling her eyes as if she had just stated the most obvious thing in the world. "You're what's good and kind in his life. You've always brought out the best in him." I thought about that. Spot did have two sides—that hard edge, that scary, icy voice, that predatory gaze I had seen so rarely—and then the Spot I knew; the kind, gentle, intelligent, and compassionate leader who liked to talk politics and law.
"But that doesn't mean—"
"No, it doesn't. But it's not surprising, either. He would never risk your friendship, but if there's more between you, then it would only be natural. So is there? More, I mean?"
Her question threw me. I had to think about it. I loved Spot very dearly. I missed him when I wasn't around—but then again, I missed Hazel, and I missed Ingrid when I hadn't seen her for awhile, and I couldn't imagine a day without Papa. I enjoyed being kissed by Spot, and it had made my stomach do flipflops, but I just didn't know if that meant there was more. I didn't know what it meant to be in love.
"I don't know," I said honestly, and my confusion must've been obvious on my face.
Ingrid and I spent much of the day talking, and the only conclusion we came to was that I wasn't sure about Spot but that kissing as a whole was fun and I should try that part again—maybe with Spot or maybe with someone else. I couldn't think of anyone else, as I was still too shy to talk to most boys or even too many girls, but that wasn't actually the point.
The next day we met as usual on our bench. Papa, Red, Ingrid, Spot, Greasefoot, and I were enjoying the day's newspaper and some good conversation in spite of the cold. I stole the occasional glance at Spot, but all I felt was a weird sensation in my stomach when I looked at him. He was behaving as if our kiss had never happened, but he was as friendly as ever. Okay, so maybe he didn't feel anything for me, either. I decided to brush it off and just enjoy the day. The snow had indeed turned into a brown, ugly mess, but the sky was a bright blue, and although it was cold, the early afternoon sunshine felt good.
"Hey, Cat," Red said as we were getting ready to head back to our respective lives, "you ever spent New Year's Eve in Manhattan?"
"No," I answered, a bit embarrassed. I had barely ever been to Manhattan.
"Care to join us? A bunch of us were thinkin' a heading over to ring in 1900. Should be a big party," he grinned. Spot grinned, too.
"Yeah, you girls should come," he said. "If that's okay with you, Mr. Fischer," he added, glancing at Papa.
"I think that would be marvelous," he said. "Of course, I expect you would see to them?"
"Don't you worry, sir," Red responded, winking at me. "We know better than to let anything happen to a friend of Spot's." Spot glared at him at this, and Red shrugged his shoulders while Papa laughed uproariously.
"You will have a grand time!" he said.
"I hope so," Ingrid replied, her eyes sparkling.
Two days later Ingrid informed us that her parents would not allow her to join us. Mr. and Mrs. Meyer were much more conservative, and as they did not know Spot and the boys as Papa did, they were hesitant to let their only daughter out with a couple of street rats so late at night. I tried to convince them, but I'm no good at that sort of thing.
"That's okay, Kati," Ingrid said philosophically. "You go and have fun. Be sure to get a kiss at midnight from someone, though!" I laughed at that. Yeah, right. Nobody was going to kiss me!
New Year's Eve day crawled by. Most of the snow was gone, but it was still cold and damp. The newsboys had sold well in the prior week; special editions summing up the best of the 19th century and making predictions for the twentieth were helping business along. Spot and several of the older newsboys sold their morning editions quickly so they could catch a short nap before the afternoon edition. They sold well and then took another nap. When I asked about it later, Spot explained that if we expected to celebrate the New Year, we would miss curfew at the lodging house. He explained that they planned to celebrate all night before the next day's editions, which would be huge sellers. They would need to be somewhat rested in order to make that work and maximize their profits. "Oh," was all I could think to say. I hadn't realized that the boys planned to work the next day, but it made sense.
The group of older newsboys and I headed out to Manhattan that evening. The walk is somewhat long, but it's pretty; the Brooklyn Bridge is a sight to behold, and Manhattan is a really neat place. We joined a throng of people out on the streets, grabbing food from a vendor. The excitement in the air was palpable, and the music from various establishments was raucous. I made sure to stick close to the boys as we pushed through the crowds until we ran into another group of rowdy boys.
"Jack," Spot said, spitting into his hand and holding it out. This Jack,who was maybe a year older, did the same, and the two shook hands. I had heard of this practice before and even witnessed it on the docks the previous summer, but it still seemed disgusting to me.
"Heya Spot," he said, and then turned to spit shake with Red. "How you boys doin'?"
"Real good, Cowboy," said Red. The boys were all greeting one another, and I realized I was heavily outnumbered and reverted to my old habit of looking at my shoes.
"And who is this?" Jack asked, coming to stop in front of me. I tried to look up and found myself face to face with a tall and very good-looking boy. I blushed.
"This is Cat. She's a friend," I heard Spot say, and there was an edge to his voice that surprised me. I've only ever heard it when he's angry, and he'd been perfectly normal so far; he hadn't seemed mad when he greeted this Jack fellow a moment ago. I wondered if I had done something to make him angry.
"Hiya Cat, pleased to meet you," Jack said politely, holding out his hand. I was relieved that he hadn't spit in it again as I shook it and gave him a small smile. "Welcome to Manhattan."
"Thanks," I murmured, then kicked myself for my shyness, threw back my shoulders, and looked him squarely in the face. Spot's been working on this with me for so long now you'd think I'd be better.
"These are some of me friends," he said, gesturing behind him to the rowdy boys, and I realized I recognized Jack and several of the boys from the pictures of the strike last summer. These must be the Lower East Side newsboys—well, some of them, anyway. Most of these were my age or older, like the Brooklyn boys, and there were women with the group, mostly even a touch older than us. Their dresses were far more gaudy and revealing than any I had seen before, and it took just a few minutes for me to realize who they were.
"Spot," I hissed in his ear, forgetting that he sounded mad a moment ago. He pulled me away from the group, a look of concern on his face.
"You okay, Katja?" he asked, and I nodded.
"Yeah. It's just those girls—they're not—" I didn't know what word to use. They all sounded so dirty somehow.
The corners of Spot's mouth lifted as he realized what I was asking. "Working girls?" he supplied, and I nodded, blushing.
"Yeah, they are. They're also friends. Don't think of their jobs when you talk to 'em, Cat. Think of them as street kids like us. They ain't so different. They just have a different job than we do."
I blushed and stared at my shoes again, nodding. Spot was right. Mama and Papa always said that I should not judge someone and remember that they are only doing their best. I remembered Papa telling me to see Spot's heart with my own. Papa had been right then, and perhaps Spot was right now. Still . . .
"Katja, sex is just that. Sex. It's nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone does it. These girls just do it for a living. Everyone else hides it. Just relax." How had he read my mind like that?
I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders again, running that thought through my brain. . Sex is no big deal unless you talk about it. Everyone does it. So I could treat these girls just like everyone else. I resolved to do exactly that. I smiled up at Spot.
"Thanks," I said. "Let's rejoin the party."
Spot was right. The girls were no different than any others I had met, although they were a lot less shy than I was. I had a grand time with them all the same. One of them, a tall girl named Emma, was particularly nice. She teased me about who would kiss me at midnight, then laughed when I blushed.
"You're a virgin, ain't ya?" she asked, and I nodded.
"I don't know if I can even imagine having sex," I admitted, forgetting for a moment her occupation. She seemed to think that was hysterical.
"Oh, kitten, you'll change your mind soon enough. It really isn't a big deal once you've done it a time or two. But for now, let's figure out your midnight kiss," she said, her words tumbling out in a rapid, laughing jumble.
"I can't just choose someone at random and expect him to kiss me," I said.
"Cat, ya gotta show the boys who's really in charge, here," she said. "You pick a boy, look him dead in the eye, and he's hooked. Look at him like you're trying to decide if he's worthy, and he's really hooked. Give him an almost smile so he thinks he has a chance. Then you leave the rest up to him." She turned to a tall blonde boy—Dutchy I think his name was—and looked at him levelly. He stared for a moment, and she tilted her head slightly as if considering him. She lifted the corners of her lips, then broke the gaze. It was as if she had performed a spell. Dutchy came straight over. I laughed as she turned to him. "I need someone at my side at midnight," she sighed dramatically, and Dutchy puffed up his chest.
"I'll help ya ring in the new year, Em" he said, seeming as if he'd offered to save the world for her. She thanked him, then, dismissing him momentarily, turned to me.
"See? Now, if I had to pick one for ya to try it on, I would pick Kid Blink over there. He's tough in a fight, but he is as soft as they come. Too soft for any of us, but perfect for you," she said, gesturing to a boy with an eye patch, and I couldn't help but laugh. I was learning to flirt from a true professional. I doubted I could or would pull it off, but it was fun to try it tonight. I felt somehow freer and wilder than I ever had. Braver, too. I decided to give it a shot. I caught the gaze of Kid Blink. I was surprised to find he was cute and that his gaze was captivating. I gave a small smile, then broke off my gaze shyly and looked down.
"Well, aren't you coy," Emma laughed. "It worked. You charmed him, alright. He's headed this way."
I blushed and tried to look up, but somehow it was harder now that a real human being was in front of me.
"Cat, right?" a friendly voice said. I managed to look right up at him and smile.
"That's right," I said. "And you're . . . " I trailed off. It seemed weird to call someone I didn't know Kid Blink.
"Kid Blink," he supplied, and I smiled again. This wasn't so bad.
"How long have you had that name? You're not a kid," I said, genuinely curious, and he laughed.
"Been a newsie for awhile," he said. "Most of the boys call me Blink these days."
"Funny how you guys all seem to get these nicknames and then give yourselves nicknames for your nicknames," I observed. He looked a bit surprised at that, seeming to consider what I had said for a moment before breaking into a grin.
"Yeah, I guess we do," he laughed. We fell into an easy conversation as the group moved down the road. I saw Red talking to a guy with a cigar in his mouth; they appeared to be arguing good-naturedly. Spot was talking to one of the girls, and I caught his eye and grinned. He grinned back, then returned to his conversation. I was having fun! Between laughing at Emma and Dutchy, talking to Blink and his friend with the curly hair (a boy named Mush), and the general antics of various members of the group, I lost track of time.
Suddenly I heard Jack yell over the group, "Almost midnight, ya bums!" I had almost forgotten that we were celebrating a holiday.
Blink turned to me, and I managed not to look away completely, even if I could only look at his chin.
"You up for a New Years kiss?" Blink asked, his own smile suddenly also a bit shy. I nodded because I couldn't actually speak. I was surprised when I suddenly heard church bells.
"Happy New Year!" the shout went up from the crowd, and Blink leaned in for a kiss. It was short and gentle and felt nice. He smiled at me, and I grinned back, looking around shyly. Pretty much every girl in the group was lip locked with someone. I saw Spot kissing a girl named Minnie, and for some reason it bothered me. I don't know why. I brushed it aside and smiled as Red came over and planted a kiss on my cheek.
"Happy New Year, Katja," he said, and I laughed when I realized he was drunk. It had always bothered me before—people being drunk, that is-but somehow this didn't seem too bad.
We continued on our way down the street, stopping at a vendor for some soup before winding up at a theater; the entertainment that night seemed to run late. It never occurred to me that there were special performances for the holiday night. The boys all seemed to know this particular hall, and I had never seen a vaudeville performance. A redheaded woman with a thick accent sang upbeat tunes, and the entire group sang along. Other acts rounded out the show; the whole thing was lively and immensely entertaining. There also seemed to be quite a bit of movement within the group—the boys were constantly switching seats, getting up and sitting back down, and more. I was having a great time. I hadn't seen Silver laugh so hard since I had known him, and Blink had not really left my side all evening. Emma and Dutchy disappeared after the first act for awhile; but a girl named Louisa and I had a good laugh over Red's attempts to walk in a straight line. I wasn't normally one for such raucous entertainment, but it felt good to cut loose.
After the show we wandered down the street for a bit longer, celebrating a bit more before Spot rounded up the Brooklyn crew. "We got papes to sell before long," he reminded everyone, "and a long walk back to Brooklyn." We said goodbye to the Manhattan crew, and I got a kiss on the cheek and a wink from Kid Blink and a hug and another wink from Emma, who had reappeared, Dutchy in tow, as we had left the theater. Red threw his arm around my shoulder, and we headed off toward the bridge and home.
There were still quite a few revelers about, and Ace's antics ensured we were a merry group as we reached the bridge. Spot came to walk beside me as we crossed the river. Somehow I had only marginally spoken to him this whole evening, but it was nice to spend the end of it with him.
"So, did ya have fun, Cat?" he smirked.
"Yeah," I responded, shivering as the wind gusted across the bridge. Spot drew me to his side, and I huddled against him. He was warm. "That was fun. I've never done anything like that."
"You and Emma seemed to get along," he mused, and I smiled at him.
"You were right. She was really nice," I said. "So were the other newsboys."
"Especially Blink?" he asked, and I had to blush. That only served to make him snicker as I chewed my bottom lip and grinned sideways up at him.
"Yeah, he was nice," I said. "And that Racetrack guy was really funny." Then I remembered a question I had wanted to ask: "Why do you spit shake?"
Spot looked surprised. Apparently his mind had been taking a different turn in our conversation. He stopped for a moment, then smiled down at me. "It's our way of showing we're serious. It seals a bargain a bit more firmly and with a lot more trust than just a handshake."
"It's gross," I teased, wrinkling my nose. He laughed.
"Happy New Year, Darlin'," he said, and he leaned over and gave me a soft kiss.