Brooklyn *Spot Conlon Love Story*

Chapter 8: Brooklyn

"So," Race says, brushing his ink covered hands down his pant leg. He looks around at the other Newsies who have gathered in the square after distributing the Newsie Banner to all the sweatshop kids. "Whatda we do now?"

"We go back home, get some rest, see if the banner worked in the mornin'," I decide. The boys nod at my suggestion and we start back to the lodging house.

Jack decided to spend the night at David's house. He figured that would be a better option because some of the Newsies are probably still mad at him, but distributed his banner because David and I had done it. And I was known as the Kelly who finished the job. I don't like the feeling that I had beat out my brother. I know what I had said to him was harsh and a spur of the moment reaction. If I could take those words back now, I would. I would also give Santa Fe back.

We walk back through lodging house door, me with my hair concealed from Kloppman. I don't know if he's figured out I'm a girl or not. The man has a kind heart and would probably let me stay if he did know, but I don't think he does.

We go upstairs and wash ourselves and whatnot, getting ready for bed. I lay on my bunk and stare at the ceiling, thinking about how hurt Spot had been when Jack had gone all scabber on us. I touched my lips and smiled. We're they even really mine anymore, now that they had been pressed against Spot Conlon's? I didn't know. Race's voice jerks me out of my thoughts.

"Heya, Jay, can I talk ta ya for a second?" he asks. I nod, standing up and following him into the bathroom. I hadn't washed myself yet and neither had Race, but the other boys had and were now getting situated for bed. I followed my best friend into the bathroom and he quietly shuts the door behind us.

"Whatsa matta?" I ask him.

"Now look, I ain't accusin' ya of anythin'," he starts off. "But you n' Spot seem real...friendly. Do you two have a thing goin'?"

I stare at Race for the longest time. I don't know how to respond. How do I respond to that? I mean, we've been keeping it a secret because if Jack found out, Spot would be dead in a ditch the next day. Well, probably not that, but you get my point. Jack doesn't have anything else to worry about in life, so he worries overly about me. So, now that he'd found out, would it really be crime to tell Race, my best friend who'd told me every thing for years and I'd done the same. Finally, I allow three words to pass my lips.

"Don't tell Jack," I request, my dark blue eyes looking pleadingly up at my best friend, who now has a warm smile on his face. I smile back.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he says. Then, his face breaks out into an even wider grin. "So, when'd this come about, huh?"

"The night of the rally," I say, blushing. Racetrack nods.

"Before the grafter punched me, or after?" he asks. I laugh a little bit.

"Before," I answer.

"Oh, so you two was already kissin' up a storm 'fore that, eh?" Race asks, elbowing me playfully. I pushed his shoulder.

"Shut up, us bum. I oughta soak ya," I tell him, punching his arm lightly.

"Golly gee, I'm in such pain," he teases. I roll my eyes. "Hey, speakin' a the king, did anyone tell 'im ta meet us in the square tomorrow?"

"Nah, don't think so," I say. I look at Race. "Ya want me to?"

He nods.

"Yeah, but if I hear a any kissin', I'm goin' straight Jack, ya hear?" he asks. I look at him with wide eyes and he begins to laugh. "I'm jus kiddin'."

"Remind me ta soak ya twice tomorrow," I tell him. He nods.

"Will do," he says with a slight up of his hat. "Ya headin' out?"