Spot and I yank away from each other and rush outside towards the sound of the screams. They're coming from an alleyway next to Medda's theater. Spot and I peek around the corner, only to see Davey cornered by Oscar Delancey. A girl who looks like Davey, only feminine—she must be his sister that he's mentioned before; Sarah, I think her name is?—is pushed up against a wall by Morris Delancey. And Les, the poor kid, is stuck in a garbage can. He's sobbing.
While Spot rushes over and yanks Morris away from Sarah, I run over to Les and help him out of the garbage can. Then I turn to Oscar and shove him away from Davey. Oscar looks at me and glares. "Oh, boy, redhead, are you going to get it," he growls, and he shoves me against the wall, hard, grinning an evil smile and saying, "This is going to be fun."
I give him a look that I hope says 'Don't mess with me'. "Let me go," I demand.
"What are you gonna do about it, girl?" Oscar laughs. "Go on strike? Oh, wait, you've already done that. And how's that working out for y—"
He can't even finish his sentence before I shove him to the ground, punching him square in the nose while I'm at it. Morris collapses on top of his brother, and I look up to see Spot, brushing his hands with satisfaction. "Everybody okay?" He addresses Davey, Les, and Sarah. "Nobody's badly hurt?"
"No," Sarah says, brushing a streak of blood off of Les's cheek and turning to Davey, worried. "Is your stomach okay?" she asks him.
That's when I notice—Davey's doubled over, his hand against his stomach, and his breathing is shaky, like he has the wind knocked out of him. One of the Delancey brothers must have punched him in the stomach—really hard. But Davey simply says, "It's fine."
I nod, facing away from the Delancey brothers. Suddenly, Spot's blue eyes widen. "Clara, look out—"
But the smack hits me hard in the back of the head, knocking me to the ground. My head bounces, and the world turns fuzzy for a minute. Everything's out of focus, not right. I can't think clearly. Not comprehending anything going on, I watch as a new figure—this one wearing a recognizable red bandana—rushes over, dropping a stack of something large and white, newspapers maybe, and punches whichever Delancey brother hit me, knocking him against the wall. He says something that seems to be in slow motion, then slams his body against the Delancey brother's body. The Delancey brother falls to the ground. Someone's shaking my shoulders. I shake my head a couple of times. "Clara," a familiar voice says. "Clara, can you hear me?" A hand appears over my face. It looks like it's doing bunny ears. "How many fingers am I holding up?"
"Two," I say, shaking my head again to clear it. The world is clearer now, and I can see that the figure with the red bandana was...wait. Jack?! What's he doing here? The person belonging to the familiar-sounding voice—it's Spot—helps me up and brushes off the back of my shirt.
"Are you okay?" Spot asks. "That was a pretty hard blow."
"Yeah, good thing our star scabber came just in time," Davey says bitterly, side-eying Jack.
Jack shrugs. "Well, I can't be somethin' I ain't," he says.
"What?" Davey glares. "A scabber?"
"No, smart." Jack sighs, then says, "We need to go to Denton. C'mon, everyone." And we leave the alley, slightly beat-up but not ready to quit just yet.
After all, we just might have Jack back.
YOU ARE READING
The Queen of Brooklyn~A Spot Conlon Fanfic
FanfictionMeet Clara Johansson: brave, independent, and clever. She's been a Manhattan newsie ever since her parents died when she was young, going by the name Red (for her naturally red hair). So what if she's the only girl in the group? The newsies are grea...
