Brooklyn *Spot Conlon Love Story*

Chapter 4: King of New York

I wake up to some one shaking my shoulder and roll over to see Race. I groan, grab my extra pillow, and whack him.

"Hey, what was that for?" he yelps.

"For ya wakin' me," I say, but Racetrack doesn't leave. I moan in protest and then, sit up and rub the sleep out of my eyes. "Whatda ya want, Race? Ya know I don't got any money."

Race laughs, "I don't want money. We's all meetin' Denton at Tibby's. 'Parently, there's somethin' important he's gotta show us."

"Alright, well I'm up," I say. I stand, hug Race, kiss his cheek good morning, and go into the bathroom to change. I come out in my usual plaid shirt, red suspenders attached to my khakis that only come a little below the knees now, my big grey Newsie cap with my golden hair stuffed into it, and no shoes on my feet.

"There she is," Jack announces as I walk out of the bathroom. "How was ya beauty sleep, 'cuz it certainly worked?"

I roll my eyes, "Whateva, Jack. So ain't we goin' ta Tibby's?"

"Yeah, let's beat it," Race says and we start to Tibby's, Jack wrapping his arm around my shoulders. I roll my eyes.

"Heya, Jay, ya boyfriend's gonna be there," Mush says. I look at him, confused.

"My boyfriend?" I ask. "What are ya talkin' about, Mush?"

"Ya know, Spot, he gonna there," Mush shrugs and looks at me as I scowl at him. "Oh, you ain't courtin'? My bad. Honest mistake. You two jus looked cozy there the otha day."

I glare at him, "Ya say that again, I'll soak ya!"

"Sorry, sorry," Mush says, speed walking ahead so I can't give him a right hook, which is what I'm inclined to do. I look up at Jack, who's glaring at the back of Mush's head.

"Come on," I say. "Jus let 'im go."

"No, I'm mad at 'im 'cuz he's right," Jack snarls. I move out of Jack's grip.

"I didn't do nothin', but please, listen ta him and not cha own sista!" I say and storm off toward Tibby's. Jack doesn't dare come after me, knowing I have a bad temper. I storm into Tibby's and pull out a random seat and sit down.

"Well, who got your knickas in a twist?" a familiar voice asks. Spot. I look at him.

"It's a long story, but Jack," I groan. Spot nods and just then, Denton bursts through the door.

"Hey fellas!" he calls out cheerily, holding up a pape with our picture on the front page. "Hey, hey! Big time."

He sets the pape down on the table and Jack pulls it toward him, the rest of us getting up and gathering around to look at the picture.

"What you got there, Jack?" Boots asks, coming over to us. Spot, surprise, surprise, wants to know about himself.

"Where's me picture? Where's me picture?" Spot bellows. I roll my eyes and point to us standing there.

"We's right there, now calm ya self down!" I scold. Spot shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

"What's that?" Boots asks, trying to weave the group of boys that are taller than him, so he see his picture. "That all about us?"

"Look at that Jack," Mush says, putting his finger on Jack's face in the picture. "You look like a gentlemen."

"Will ya get your fingers off me face?" Jack asks, brushing Mush's hands away from the pape.

"Where does it say my name?" Spot asks, trying to read the pape. "Where's my name?"

"Will ya quit thinking about ya self?" I request, as Jack swats Spot away like a fly. I want laugh at how he's supposed to be the most feared Newsie in all of New York and my brother just swatted him away like a fly. But, I'm mad at Jack, therefore, I will not laugh.