Spot Conlon: Cross the Finish Line [3]

Chapter 6

Ise adjust me grip on me knife and shrink back agains de bed, tryin' ta hide. The man stood in de corner, his arms crossed. 

He suddenly made a move into the moon light near the window. I gasped and then breathed a sigh of relief. 

"Spot, what on earth are youse doin' here?" Ise asked, gettin outta bed. 

"Follow me. Ise got somethin' ta show youse." Spot whispered, openin' de door. Ise put on me suspendas and me boots, tucked de knife into me suspendas and followed 'im out de door. Once wese outside. 

"Spot, where are wese goin'?" Ise whisper. 

"Jus' follow me." He whispered back. Then 'e catches sight of de knife in me pocket, grabs it and examines it. 

"Hey. Dis is me knife! Where'd youse get it?" He asks. 

Ise shrug. "Ise borrowed it a week ago. Ise was plannin' on retoinin' it, don't worry." 

Spot chuckled, spun de kife around in 'is hand and handed it to me. "Keep it. Youse weren't really gonna give it back anyway." 

"Nope." Ise say. Ise put it back and followed 'im through de streets to de jail.

"Spot, what are wese doin' here? There ain't nutin' wese can do here." Ise say.

"Wese just gonna talk ta Race through de window. Rep can take care o' de house his-self. He'll be fine. C'mon, let's go." Spot takes me hand and drags me to one of de windows.

"Race! Race, get up! Wese gotta talk ta youse." Spot whispered. Race was asleep on the bed - or, he had been. He grabbed his pillow from under 'is head and threw it at de bar-covered windows. 

"Go away, Spot. Couln't youse have  come back in de mornin'?" Race mumbled. 

"No, dis is urgent. Youse gotta tell Jazzer what youse told me." Spot said. 

"Why don't youse tell 'er youse-self?" Race mumbled. 

"Anthony Higgins, just tell me." Ise growled. Racetrack knows dat when Ise use 'is real name, Ise serious. 

"Ugh, fine." Race got out o' bed and walked to de window. "Yestaday, efter youse left, a man came to de window. He laughed - at least Ise think it was a laugh - and then asked me how if felt ta be in jail. Then 'e left. 'Is voice sounded familiar, but Ise don't know who it was." 

Ise blinked. "Seriously? Whoeva asked dat musta been de one dat commited de crime. What did 'e look like? Which way did 'e go?" Ise asked.

"Don't know what 'e looked like. 'E was wearin' a black hood ova 'is face. Ise don't know where 'e went, either. Ise got bars on me window, in case youse haven't noticed." Race said sarcastically.

"Yeah, yeah, okay. Wese gotta go. See ya, Race." Spot said. Race grabbed 'is pillow and lazily lay down in 'is bed.Ise followed Spot thorugh de streets. 

"Spot, why couldn't you have jus' told me that?" Ise asked. 

Spot sighed. "Ise could've, but there's somethin' else Ise gotta tell youse. Ise, uh, Ise found a job. A real one, one dat acctually pays well. Ise gonna start in three days. Ise ain't gonna be a newsie no more, Jazzer." 

"W-what? Youse ain't gonna be a newsie? C'mon, Spot dis has got ta be a joke." Ise say in disbeilief. Ise expected 'im ta be a newsie until ladda, until it was close to 'is boithday, not now. 

Spot shook 'is head. 

"Why? Spot, why?" Ise demand. 

"It's... it's compicated. Ise doin' it foi youse, Jazzer." He says. Ise shake me head. 

"No, youse ain't. In three days, youse gonna be too busy ta help wit Race. Youse promised dat youse would help Race." 

"Ise know, dat's why Ise gonna not gonna rest foi three days. Jazzer, Ise promise dat Ise will help youse until three days is up." 

Ise take a deep breath. "Ok. But, Spot... Ise wish youse wouldn't do dis. Youse a natural newsie! Wese all are. Ise don't wanna give dis up." Ise say. 

"Ise know, neither do Ise. But if Ise wanna make it in de real world, Ise might as well start now, or Ise gonna be livin' on de streets. Youse woikin' foi Medda anyway." 

"Yes, but Ise still a newsie." Ise say. By now, wese reached de house. 

"Good night, Jazzer. Stay safe." Spot whispered in me ear.

"Youse too, Spot. Ise don't wanna have ta stich youse up again." Ise say, rememebrin' when me father nearly killed 'im.

Spot chuckled. "Youse were nearly killed, too, remember? When youse almost drowned."

"Yeah. Was that de time youse told me youse had a proposition foi me? Ise don't think youse knew what that meant. Youse didn't offer me no propostion." Ise laugh quietly.

"Youse right, Ise didn't know what it meant. I'll see youse tommorrow." 

"Right back at ya." Ise say, closin' de door to de house. Ise lean me head against de door, thankful it hadn't seemed like he had been avoidin' me. 

Ise go back to bed. How could Spot give up bein' a newsie so soon? Bein' a newsie meant youse were free ta live youse own life. Youse friends weren't friends, they were family because youse all looked out foi each odda and there was neva a dull moment. If youse woiked a real job... well, it was all dull, youse friends were just friends, there was not fightin', no fun. No doin' what youse want when eva youse want. None o' that. Youse give it all up ta have de excitment taken away and replaced wit rules and bein' bossed around all day everyday, neva spendin' time wit family and friends. Sittin' behind a desk ain't my idea o' a good job.

Maybe once Ise stop bein' a newsie, I'll just woik foi Medda full time. Ise thought. That would be fun, at least. Ise could act, sing, play music. It was all like a game, really. Like bein' a newsie. Bein' a newsie was kinda like a game, if youse thought about it. Laughin' and chasin' and all dat. 

But as an acta youse got limited space. As a newsie, youse got de whole woild as youse play ground. Wese free. Shore it's dangerous, but isn't everythin' dangerous in some way? 'Sides, some danger is fun. Ise think, just before Ise driftin' off ta sleep.