I spent the early afternoon selling. I only bought ten papes, but it was a fun challenge, and it felt good to have earned four extra cents after paying the six for the papes. I wouldn't have done even that well without Jimmy attracting the attention of passers by and giving me an opening to talk to people. I stuck near our old bench, somehow drawn to that area. Greasefoot was there in Spot's absence. He likes to roam more than the others, and he is known for filling in when boys are out. His presence was comforting, even if I did get the feeling he was laughing inwardly at my pitiful efforts.
I also spent some time thinking about a job. Who would hire me? The thought of working in an enclosed space frightened me, and I worried about what kind of boss I would have. What if I met another person like Santorelli? What sort of job could I do? What woud I like? I wondered if I could go back to school. The thought was a strange one. I wasn't the same person anymore-no longer a girl in a smock and a big bow. But somehow the desire to go back was still there. As if by going back I could turn back time. I sighed.
"Penny for your thoughts? Or for a pape?" Red's voice interrupted me. I grinned up at him, instantly feeling better.
"Couldn't sell your wares?" I said.
"Ha. Sold out half hour ago. Unless there are extra editions," he replied. "So no distracting from the question. What's on your mind?" Dang, and I'd been hoping it would work.
"Just thinking about jobs. And school," I said vaguely, and he nodded.
"You'll find something. Something you love, whether it's going back to school or finding a job. Something where the people are nice. Not everyone is like Santorelli," he said, sensing what was worrying me.
"How do you know that? He always seemed like a nice guy. How do I figure out the good places?" I asked, voicing a fear I hadnt consciously recognized before now.
"Trust your instincts. And if you aren't sure, trust Spot's instincts. He never trusted that creep," Red replied. I nodded uncomfortably.
"And you? Job prospects?" I asked, remembering that he was looking for a job on a ship and wanting desperately to turn the conversation away from Santorelli.
"There's a ship that just said they'd hire me on their next trip. I'll be leaving in late June," he answered.
"Wow! That's great!" I said sincerely. Then a thought hit me. "But I'll really miss you," I added. "And Roller will miss you even more."
"Yeah, I know. I'll miss youse as well," he said. "But you've got Spot. And Roller does, too. And someday Greasefoot unless that prig Snide wants to get uppity. But I think Greasefoot can take him, just like I knew Spot could take Rut. Spot was always tough. And meaner, too."
"I've never thought of Spot as mean," I said, maybe a bit defensive in my reply.
"He ain't. Not unless he has to be. But it's in there. He can be a bastard," Red said absently, then looked at me. "At least, he can be when he's not around you. But you bring out the best in him. Always have," he said.
"Is he really mean when I'm not around?" I asked, now a bit worried. Did I really know Spot Conlon?
"Not mean-spirited. He was never that. But he could be cocky and selfish. Years growing up on the streets will do that to a person. But you're changing him. He's not even those things anymore, even when you aren't around."
I thought about that long after Red had gone down to the schoolroom to check on the younger newsies. I even took a blanket up on the roof. Did I really want a mean person to be my first boyfriend? But the Spot I knew was loving, caring, and respectful. He looked out for his boys and took care of them just like he did for me. That didn't sound like a mean person. No, Red had to be wrong.
My thought about Spot led me back to my dilemma about a job. I stared up at the clouds that had moved in as the sun got lower, trying to come up with an answer before the impending rain. I also thought about Ingrid. I should really go and see her-I hadn't seen her since before-well, everything. I worried about that. The wind picked up a bit, and I was just thinking that the night would be chilly when a figure appeared on the roof. I smiled as I recognized Spot's swagger.
"Mind if I join you?" he asked, sitting beside me on the blanket without waiting for my response.
I smiled at him and said, "Even if I did, it appears I'm too late. Looks like I'm stuck with you."
"That hurt!" Spot cried, clutching his hands to his chest before smirking down at me. "Good thing I know you didn't mean it and that you're actually honored to have me up here with you."
I chuckled and rolled my eyes. "You and your ego," I said, but I didn't get any further before his mouth silenced mine with a kiss. Have I mentioned how much I enjoy that?
"I've been thinking about Ingrid," I said when we parted. "I haven't seen her since Papa . . . " I trailed off, not wanting to think about that day. I missed him so much. "I should probably let her know where I am and that I'm okay. I think it might even be good to talk to her. But I don't know. I wouldn't know what to say."
"We've been keeping her updated. She knows you're here and that you may need some time before you're ready to talk," Spot said.
"She knows?" I was shocked. And suddenly angry. Who were the newsboys to tell my friend what had happened to me? "What the heck, Spot? What if I didn't want her to know? It's my business, my friend, and my life! You had no right to tell her what happened to me!" I realized I was yelling at Spot.
"Cat, we didn't—" he said, moving away from me with his hands out in front of him in a defensive, placating gesture.
"No, Spot. You didn't think. Did it occur to you that I would want some of my life to be private? I lost my family and my home. Then I lost what that man took from me. I have no privacy, no prospects, and now you take my dignity? She's the only friend I've got! What if she doesn't want to see me anymore? Did you think about that?"
I stormed off the roof and into my room before he could respond, slamming the window shut a lot harder than I meant to. The glass shattered, but I ignored it, storming over to my bed. I grabbed a book and threw it across the room, where it hit the wall with a satisfying thud. Then I buried my face in my pillow. I was so angry I could barely think, but at the same time my head was swirling. How dare he?
I got up and paced back and forth a bit. The longer I did, the more my anger abated and my guilt and fear took over. I had really yelled at Spot. He had been so good to me-so kind. And he was supposed to be my boyfriend. That had only lasted a few hours. I had alienated the one person who cared about me, and about whom I cared more than anything. I had taken the generosity of Spot and the boys and had thrown it in their faces. Now I would need to move over to the girls' home, and the thought terrified me. I fell back onto my bed, replaying the events in my mind and kicking myself for the things I had said. I had no right to say anything negative to Spot, ever. I don't know how long I lay there, but I must have cried myself to sleep.
I awoke to a caress on my face. The touch had been light and probably not meant to wake me—just a strand of hair being brushed away from my face. I opened my eyes to see Spot moving towards my broken window, not realizing I was awake.
"What are you doing?" I whispered, and he whipped around and was back at my side in an instant.
"Cat! You should be sleeping," he said, but he didn't meet my gaze. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. That window . . . " he trailed off, and I realized it was cold in here and that the rain I had anticipated was blowing into my room. I shivered a bit in spite of the blanket he had apparently placed over me.
"I'm sorry I broke it," I said, and I meant it. I knew that the lodging house didn't have a ton of money for replacing windows. I felt pretty guilty; the boys had gone out of their way to sneak me in here, and I was causing problems. "I'll get my stuff together tomorrow and head over to the girls' lodging house in Park Slope."
"The hell you will," growled Spot, and I flinched. He sounded pretty angry with me. Maybe he wanted to send me to the orphanage or worse, the Refuge? Given that I had yelled at him, then broken his lodging house, I could understand that. My eyes filled with tears as I realized how much trouble I had caused him, and I shrank back.
"I'm sorry," I whispered again, staring at my blanket, my hands picking at it as I fought to keep the tears at bay.
"Katja, look at me," Spot said in that command voice. I knew after all I had done, I had to obey, even if it was the last thing I wanted to do. I bit my lower lip and looked at him, and he reached a hand to caress my face. "I love you. Nothing is going to change that."
After all of that? I stared at him in disbelief, not quite comprehending. He pulled me gently to him, and I leaned into his shoulder and started to cry. I didn't really know why I was crying; mostly I was just overwhelmed. Spot just caressed my back. Once I had settled a bit, he spoke.
"Cat, you aren't leaving. I need you here, where I can know you're safe. Where I can see you every day. I am not going to have you disappear on me again. I almost died the first time." He kissed the top of my head. "I love you so much. No silly fight or broken window will change that."
"I thought-" I said, then stopped. I didn't know what I had thought, but not that.
"I know. But I meant what I said this morning. I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me, Darlin'. Even when we fight." He paused before adding, "But you should know that we didn't tell Ingrid anything. She's been asking about you every day since you disappeared. She and Ace have become pretty close. When you turned up, I told him to tell her that you had been through a lot and would be there when you were ready. That's all we told her. That's all anybody knows. None of the boys knows what happened to you."
He kissed the top of my head, then continued, "You have a lot of friends, you know. And none of them would judge you for what happened, least of all Ingrid. But whether or not you tell her or anyone else is still your choice, Cat. Personally I think it would be a good idea. It would be good for you to have another girl to talk to about everything, and she's a good friend to have. But that's your decision."
I nodded into his shoulder. "I should have heard you out," I murmured into him. "I should have known you wouldn't do anything wrong. I just got so angry. I don't know why. I have no right to ever be angry at you."
"You always have the right to your emotions, Cat. Always." He paused briefly, then smiled at a memory. "Most of the boys here don't remember when Mrs. Kirby was younger and ran the place. She used to spend time talking to us—almost like a mother. I remember once after I'd gotten into a fight with some kid about something stupid she pulled me aside and said, 'Spot, the issue is never the issue.' Whatever it was that got you so angry, it wasn't about me. You have a lot to be angry about, and when you thought I'd wronged you, it all came out at once. That's understandable. And you weren't wrong that I would have no right to tell Ingrid anything. You've had precious little control over your own life lately. I've been pretty controlling, haven't I? It's not surprising you got angry at me."
When had he gotten so wise? I wrapped my arms around his waist, and he tightened his arm around my shoulder. I was suddenly exhausted-and cold.
"I'm sorry for yelling at you all the same," I said. He leaned in and kissed me.
"And I'm sorry for mishandling things. I'm sorry for not giving you independence and for pressuring you to do things. I'm sorry for everything that's happened to you," he said, falling silent and resting his chin on my head. The rumble of thunder roused him. "C'mon, you can't stay in here" he said as he moved slowly to stand.
"Where are we going?" I asked, confused.
"Bring your blanket. We're sleeping in my room. It's too cold in here," he said matter of factly, pulling me to my feet. He draped my blanket over my shoulders, then pulled me through the dividing door to his bed. "Go to sleep," he said once I was settled, then turned back to close the door to keep the cool from my bedroom out. For some reason the enclosed space didn't bother me in this room.