In the Stars ( A Sprace fan fiction)

Chapter 2: The King of Brooklyn

Trigger warning:A little bit of self harm and beating

             I met Spot Conlon a while ago. We's go way back actually. He's beaten me up a few times, bein' an idiot again. I like to shoot off at the mouth a lot, and it gets my ass in trouble. Anyways, I first got the feelin' a few years ago. We was out sellin' papes, and that day I was sellin' in Brooklyn near the Sheepshead Races (the best place in the world). It was summer and the sun was beatin' down pretty hard.

         I hadn't thought about bringin' any water because, I don't think. And my stupid ass passed out right then and there. Later, I woke up in the Brooklyn boys' lodging house. I remember a little bit of waking up and seeing him standin' there lookin' worried talkin to another one of his Brooklyn newsies.

          When I woke up completely, and he was still there. I asked,

         "What happened?", he told me,

         "You passed out on the streets. You're lucky I found ya and brought you in. You coulda' been carried away to the refuge Race, the REFUGE! Do you want that to happen again?"

          I flinched. He seemed real mad at me so I just shrugged. I didn't know what to say to the King of Brooklyn. I'd never seen him get like that. Why'd he care about me? When he saw how what he just said sorta scared me and that I was fidgeting again, he said,

           "I'm sorry, I jus' know your history with Snyder."

           Snyder was the flippin' bastard that ran the Refuge. The Refuge was a place for kids who did somthin' wrong. Like the pen, but for kids and with abuse. He was right though, with all I've done, Snyder would've locked me up in a heartbeat. I stayed there for a month one time. Almost every night they would beat me. I didn't even do nothin'. They just beat me for the hell of it.

         But, after a long lecture from Spot, I was walkin' home when I started thinkin' bout' him. I didn't know why, I jus couldn't stop. Bout' how mad he seemed, how worried he was, his hair and how messy it was that day, how his deep brown eyes hypnotized me into this feelin' I'd never felt before.

        When I got to the lodging house late that night, everyone was askin' all these questions I couldn't seem to pay attention to. So I just told em' I was too tired for all a that, and I went up to the bunks. I drifted off thinkin' bout' him, still wonderin' why I was feelin' like that.

        We saw each other again after that, but we didn't say much. I didn't feel that feelin' again for a while, until the strike. When him and his boys finally came to save our butts, he came up to me and said,

        "Ya really gotta stop gettin' inta dumb shit Racer", and walked away. The hell was that supposed to mean!? I didn't do nothin'! It was Davey's fault! But when he was walkin' away, I felt it again. That feelin' I got back at the Brooklyn boys' house. That night I decided to ask Albert, (my best friend since my first day at the lodging house) about the feelin'. He jus shrugged and said,

        "Prolly jus' confused bout' it all.", he had a point there, I was confused. But I know what confused is and that wasn't it. I didn't wanna bug him, so I jus said,

       "Yea probably.", and tried sleeping, but it didn't work. All night I was up thinkin' about that feeling. I had nothin' else to do so I climbed out on to the fire escape with my cigar that I carry with me everywhere. Don' get me wrong, I don't actually smoke em' that just makes them feel dirty to me. I jus need one with me wherever I go because of what happened.

My dad abused me till I was eight. That was when I ran away. My dad would always say stuff like "Worthless piece of shit, you make us all miserable! You don't do anything right fuckin screw up!"

        My whole life I blamed everything on myself. One day when I was about almost nine, I was chasin' Albert round the house when he ran into the table and hurt his wrist pretty bad. He was sitting in the kitchen cryin' and I didn't know what to do. I just hurt my best friend! A hundred thoughts ran through my head and I just stood there like a moron. When Jack came in and saw Albert, he was pretty angry. When he yelled,

          "RACE I'VE TOLD YOU NOT TO CHASE HIM IN HERE! HE'S HURT NOW!", I lost it. I ran upstairs ballin' my eyes out. I sat there on my bed digging into my skin, it was my fault. I ruined everything again! When one of the older Newsies saw that I was scratching myself so bad that I was dripping blood, he grabbed the first thing he saw to stop me from hurting myself. It was a cigar he snagged from someone somewhere.

       I hated the smell and the taste of it, but somehow that cigar brought me comfort. Now, I use it as a fidget thing to stop myself from biting my cheek or scratchin' myself.

         But back to what I was sayin' bout' that night, I jus' sat there on that fire escape thinkin' about him. How he was teasing me, bout' how when he was aboutta go up to Pulitzer's office he looked back at me only for a second, how when he waved down at us, he shot me a little smirk, and after it all was over and we was sayin' our goodbyes, he looked at me again and when he left, I felt sad outta nowhere!

        These thoughts filled my head all night while I was looking at the stars and a few times a felt a blush creep up my face and a slight smile would appear. I had no idea why, but I was less fidgety that night and I simply had my cigar sitting there in my mouth until mornin'. I've done this for a month now. I barely get any sleep.

        This night right here though, this is the night where it all made sense to me, I have a crush on the King of Brooklyn!