Humbling Spot Conlon (A Spot Conlon Love Story)

Ch. 8: Guilt

I woke up in handcuffs. I was then brought inside a court building where there was a judge.

"Are any of you represented by counsel?" The judge asked us. Counsel? None of us seemed to know what that meant, me included. "No. Good, good. That'll move things along considerably."

"Hey, Your Honor, I object," Said Spot next to me. I elbowed him. It was probably not a good time to say anything, no matter how tempting it was. He just ignored me.

"On what grounds?" The judge asked.

"On the grounds of Brooklyn, Your Honor." I couldn't help but laugh. Neither could anyone else. I knew he probably wasn't doing any good for us, and this wasn't the time to be joking, but it was pretty funny. The funniest thing is that he tried to keep a straight face, but ended up laughing with the rest of us.

"I fine each of you five dollars," The judge declared, "or two weeks of confinement in the House of Refuge." Our faces quickly fell. I elbowed Spot again. He shot me an annoyed look. I gave one back.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Race interrupted, "Hey. Hey, we ain't got five bucks. We don't even got five cents. Hey, Your Honor, how about I roll you for it? Double or nothin'." The boys laughed, I just sent Race a glare, but he wasn't paying attention. He was really trying to place a bet with a judge?

"Alright, move along, move along," The judge dismissed.

I was ready to get out of there and work my butt off, or just go to the Refuge, whichever I felt more in the mood to do. Then I heard a voice from behind. "Your Honor, I'll pay the fines. All of them." I turned to see Denton. Thank goodness! I would've probably just ended up at the Refuge.

He came in with David, who seemed concerned. "Hey, fellas, you alright?" They came over to us. "Where's Jack?"

"Look, we gotta meet at the restaurant. Everybody. We have to talk," Denton explained.

"Pay the clerk. Move it along," The judge said, banging his hammer thing on the stand.

Then Jack came in. A wave of relief washed over me. He was okay. "Hey fellas," He said.

"Hey, Cowboy, nice shiner," Race said. I didn't understand how everybody could be joking right now, but I still let out a small laugh.

"Pay the clerk. Move it along," The judge repeated.

On our way out, like a child, I quickly stuck my tongue out at the judge, then continued. They took our handcuffs off, which I was super relieved about since they were extremely uncomfortable.

When we were out I gave Race a big hug. "Don't ever fight a guy twice yer size again," I demanded. He just gave me a weird look, which was understandable because that wasn't exactly a thing a boy would do. I was doing a terrible job at acting like a boy recently.

I approached Spot when everyone went off to do their own things. "Are you okay?" He asked.

"Why, 'cause I'm just a fragile little girl?"

"What'd I even do? Why're you mad at me all the time? I didn't do nothin'."

"Hmm, let's see, what'd you do? Well for one, yer acting like I'm a whole different person now that ya know that, y'know. Two: Saying "girls are fragile" to a girl who won't hesitate ta throw ya off the Brooklyn Bridge. Did ya even think there?"

"I'm just sayin-"

"Don't. Yer not helpin' anythin' right now."

"Whatever."

I felt like kicking him. So I did. I kicked him in the shin. He got all mad about it then left, clearly tired of this conversation. I headed to Tibby's.