Somewhere // Spot Conlon

Chapter 12

"It's puppy love, nothing serious," Fletcher laughs.

I walk across the wood floor making the old boards creak. The rusty old lock barely turns anymore, but the door still opens. A woman with pale skin and black hair with a man with ginger hair sitting on our couch!

"Who are you?" I ask.

"I'm Dior, your older sister, and this is my husband Adam," she says softly.

I haven't seen her in years, not after she abandoned us.

"Hello, you must be Allyson, Dior has told me so much about you," Adam stands and starts walking over to me.

He's American! He doesn't talk like us or like Spot.

"Bonjour, Monsieur Adam, quelle belle journée dehors?" I squeak out in French.

I quickly make lunch because Eva had made breakfast. Spot wants me to meet him at noon on the docks.

"This Spot is your copain, oui?" Dior asks.

I nod briskly.

"Ha, I told you Fletcher, not puppy love!" Dior snaps.

Charles suddenly bursts in the door. He shouldn't be here yet.

"Charles, why are you home so early?" I ask setting plates on the table.

"They raised the price."

"What?" Fletcher asks him.

"Sixty cents per hundred. We're going on strike. I've been volunteered to go to West Side try to talk the newsies there in to joining the strike," he sighs.

"Has anyone told Spot?" I ask him.

He shakes his head," Jack, David and Boots are heading there in a bit."

"Good, if I hurry I can make it before them. Goodbye," I run down the stairs and out the door.

I dodge people through the street, weaving left and right. I bump into a few people that yell at me. I charge all the way to the bridge and still don't stop. I wipe the sweat from my brow and continue on. I come to a screeching halt at the docks.

Darn, they're already there. I start screaming for Spot as I run toward him. I crash into Spot, stumbling back a couple feet.

I tug on his arm," Spotty, I need to tell you something!"

"Hold on Al," he chuckles," So, uh, Jackie boi-"

I tug on his arm harder," Spot!"

He ignores me and loads a marble into his slingshot," I've been heahin' tings from little boids."

"Spotty!" I whine louder.

"What is it?" He snaps.

"They want you to join them in the strike they are planning against the paper price going up," I whisper in his ear.

He smirks and pecks me on the lips," Thanks, Princess. So, I've been heahin' tings from Harlem, Queens, all ovah, even my goil from 'hattan is tellin' me tings."

David ducks down as Spot aims at a glass bottle. He lets go, shattering the bottle into a million tiny pieces.

"Ally heah chirps in my ear, says Jackie bois newsies playin' like dey goin' on strike," Spot explains.

I follow him like a lost puppy as he wraps an arm around my waist.

"Yeah? Well, we are," Jack says sternly.

"Well, we aren't playing, we are going on strike," David explains.

I give him a wave and small smile. Spot glares at David and gets in his face," Oh, yeah? Yeah? What is dis Jackie boi? Some kinda walkin' mouth?"

"Yeah, it's a mouth, a mouth wit a brain, and if youse go half a one, you'll listen to what he's gotta say," Jack says.

Spot and I sit down on a nearby crate. He wraps his arm around me and I lay my head on his shoulder. I love the smell of fougère radiating off him.

"Well, we started the strike, but we can't do it alone. So, we've been talking to other Newsies all around the city-"

"Yeah, so dey told me. What'd tell you?"

Spot glares at David again as he starts talking," They're waiting to see what Spot Conlon's gonna do. See, you're the key."

I reach up to my neck feeling Spot's key and clasp my hand tight around it.

"That Spot Conlon is the most famous and respected newsie in all of New York and probably everywhere else too. And if Spot Conlon joins the strike, then they'll join, and we'll be unstoppable. So you two have gotta join us, bec-, well, you gotta!" David explains.

Spot looks down at me with raised eyebrows. He's going for Spot's favorite thing, when you raise his ego. But they'll run home when the cops show up. I shake my head.

Smirking, Spot takes out his cane as he stands up," You're right Jack, brains, but I'se got brains too and more dan just half a one. How'd I'se know you'se punks won't go runnin' the foist time some goon comes at ya with a club? How do I'se know you'se got what'd takes to win?"

"Cause I'm tellin' ya Spot," Jack states.

"Well, dat ain't good enough, Jackie boi. You'se gotta show me," Spot puts more distance between him and Jack.

He motions for me to come to him. I stand and head towards him, but something's holding me back. David.

"Allyson, please, talk Spot into it. Think about your brother."

"I can't, that's not how it works. But I have faith and hope in you, but you've gotta show Spot," I frown," You gotta show him."

I pry his hand off my wrist and walk towards Spot. Spot throws his arm over my shoulder.

"Please Allyson! We're friends!" David cries from behind me.

"Sorry David, but that's the way it is."