Back to the Newsies

Brooklyn's Here

I woke up to sunlight streaming through the curtain-less window. Spot wasn't where he fell asleep last night. I slowly stretched, then sat up and saw that he was outside on the fire escape with Quicksilver. He rolled a ball around for her to catch, and she always snatched it up before it rolled off the fire escape. I climbed out of the window and sat down next to Spot, leaning my head on his shoulder. Quicksilver saw me and immediately dropped the ball in Spot's lap and leaped to lick me. 

"Ah, okay, okay, girl. I know you missed me." I laughed back. Spot had a small smile on his face. "Okay, okay. Down. Down, Quicksilver." I told her, gently pushing her away. She backed away from me and sat down on her haunches, tongue lolling out. Sometimes, I swear she's a dog and not a wolf. 

"I heard her scratchin' at da window dis mornin', so I went out and sat wit her. But she wanted me to play instead." Spot explained.

"Dat's what she's always like. She's real playful." I said, then thought for a moment. "Say, Spot. How'd ya get ya name? An' what's ya real name?"

Spot's eyes darkened. "I's don't wanna talk about it."

"Spot, it's not good fo' ya ta bottle up ya feelin's." I softly said, turning his head to face me. I stared him directly in the eye and his eyes seemed to soften a bit. "I's speak from poisonal (personal) experience."

"Do ya really wanna know?"

I nodded. "Besides, if ya let go of ya past, it don't affect ya as much lata."

Spot sighed and leaned his head on mine. "Well, me real name's Liam William Conlon. I's had a little brudda, but he died afta me family and me came ta America. His name was Gabriel, but we's called 'im Spot because he loved dogs." he explained, trying not to let his voice crack. I felt water on my head and looked up to see tears falling down his face. I raised my hand and brushed them away with my thumb.

"Afta he died, me parents died a some disease, an' I was left on me own. Den da Brooklyn newsie leada found me an' took me unda 'is wing. He taught me everythin' I knows. I's took up da name Spot ta honor me brudda's memory." Spot finished.

"Well, Liam, I's knows dat ya brudda is smilin' at ya from Heaven." I reassured him. 

He smiled gratefully at me. "What about you'se?"

"Well, ya didn't finish ya story, but I'll hafta hear it lata, since ya wanna hear me story."

I stared at Quicksilver, who was gnawing a tough bone I assume she had found in the dump in some alley.

"Well, I's lived in Florida fo' halfa me life. Me family an' I moved ta North Carolina when I's was around 8." I began. "I led a pretty borin' life, considerin' how dere's no newsboys in me time."

"No newsboys?" Spot asked incredulously. I nodded in reply. "Den how do dey get news ta people?"

"Well, dere's television, radio, an' somethin' called da internet." I explained, feeling awkward.

"What's dat?"

"It's hard ta explain, but dey're ways people know what's goin' on. It's also ways dat people get entertainment, instead of on the stage, like Medda's." 

"Eeesh. Ya confusin' me even mo'." Spot complained.

I laughed at his childish behavior. "Well ya didn't need ta ask what a television or radio or internet was." I retorted.

"Fine, fine. Go on."

"Well a year afa we moved, me mudda died. I's still not ova it, even six ye-ahs lata." I said sadly, tearing up. Quicksilver came over and put her head in my lap. I stroked her ears as Spot pressed his lips to my forehead.