ÿþ<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.0 Transitional//EN"> <HTML> <HEAD> <META HTTP-EQUIV="Content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> <META NAME="GENERATOR" CONTENT="Mozilla/4.08 [en] (WinNT; I) [Netscape]"> <META NAME="Author" CONTENT="cipuser"> <TITLE>Outcast</TITLE> <style> <!-- /* Text Link Underline Remover Script- © Dynamic Drive (www.dynamicdrive.com) For full source code, installation instructions, 100's more DHTML scripts, and Terms Of Use, visit dynamicdrive.com */ a{text-decoration:none} //--> </style> </HEAD> <BODY TEXT="#9900cc" BGCOLOR="#000000" LINK="#33ff33" VLINK="#33ff33" ALINK="#5500FF"> <CENTER><P><BR> <B><FONT SIZE=+3> Outcast</BIG></FONT> <P><I> by Slick </I></CENTER> <P> <P>Chapter One <P>The sound of Kloppman's shoes shuffling across the wood floor woke me up. I opened my eyes ever so slowly and saw him looking about the room. I looked, too, and saw bunk beds full of dirty, sleeping boys. This was the sight I had awoken to every morning for the past two months, ever since my mother had kicked me out of the house and I had become a newsie. I was one of the very few female newsies, and the only one in this part of New York. There were a few in the lodging houses of Brooklyn, and one in the Bronx, and one in Harlem. As I contemplated the scene before me, Kloppman was getting ready to wake the rest of the newsies up. <P>"GET UP BOYS! IT S MORNIN !" He yelled. The newsies came alive, but slowly. Kid Blink was the first to fall out of bed, and he did fall, from the top bunk, onto Mush, who had the bottom bunk. <P>"Ow, man! What a way to wake up," Mush groaned as he followed Blink into the washroom (a place I was not allowed). Slowly the other newsies followed, and finally only Jack remained in the room with me. He was laying on the top bunk of a bed he had all to himself. No one shared a bed with the Cowboy. He piled all of his useless cowboy junk in the lower bunk ("Its for when I get to Santa Fe," he swore). I was standing in front of the bed I, too, had all to myself (no one wanted to share with the girl), putting my hair up with a bit of string and gathering my washing stuff to go upstairs to the unused washroom. Jack rolled over and stretched his arms above his head. One eye opened and focused on me. <P>"Morning, Cowboy," I said with a smile. <P>"How can ya be so damn smiley at this time 'a day?" He said hoarsely. He'd been out late, as usual, with his girlfriend, Sarah Jacobs. "Aw, I know, I'm gettin' up." And with that he crashed to the floor and dragged himself into the washroom. As I trudged up the stairs, I listened to the newsies singing, and I wished I could be in there, too, instead of all alone. <P>~~~~~~~~~~ <P>"Fifty papes, please," I ordered, and handed the man behind the bars a coin. He gave me a stack of newspapers, and I carried them over to where a large group of newsies were sitting to count their papes and skim over the headlines. "Ya gotta know what yer selling," a newsie once told me. I sat down next to Racetrack, and he turned to me with a smile. <P>"How ya doin', Killer?" He asked. My real name was Chloe (pronounced Cloey), but someone had given me the nickname "Killer" in jest, because I looked so harmless, and it had stuck, to my dismay. <P>"Oh, I'm good. Its nice weather. Good for selling papes," I replied. Jack had overheard me and he turned to look. <P>"Ya crazy? Any weather's good fer sellin' papes. It ain't the weather dat sells, it s the newsie!" Some of the others laughed in agreement, and I blushed. I was still fairly new, and it seemed like every time I turned around, I was creating some sort of faux pas. All I wanted was to be accepted, and I had, to some extent. Some of the newsies were still uncomfortable having a girl around, but most had been very nice. Jack was the leader, and he seemed almost untouchable. Especially since he had started dating Sarah. He had become distant from most of the newsies except for a few like Racetrack, Mush, and Blink. I hadn't known him before, but every once in a while I overheard someone talking about "how Cowboy used ta be". Of course, they all talked about "The Strike" all the time. I showed up about a month after it had ended. In fact, I had attended the rally in front of the World building and I remembered the courage of the newsies when I was kicked out and had no where to go. The newsies loved to talk about their crowning moment, and embellished some events beyond belief. Most of the exaggerations had to do with Spot Conlon, who I had never met, but looked forward to meeting. <P>"Awright. Lets go boys, and enlighten the woyld." With those words from Jack, the newsies poured out of the gates to begin peddling the day's news. Right as I exited with Racetrack and the others, two pretty girls all dolled up in frilly dresses passed, on their way to school. All the boys snatched their hats from their heads and performed typical male hormonal activities; whistling, grinning, bowing, and cat-calling. I rolled my eyes as Mush turned to a group of us and said, <P>"Man, dey were some pretty goyls. I wonder how's I can git my hands on some goyls like dat!" Racetrack and the others nodded in agreement. I hated to be the dissenter, but I just had to speak out. <P>"I really wasn't that impressed," I said boldly. The newsies turned to look at me, laughing. <P>"Well, Killer, we hardly was expectin' ya to be. I mean, you se got all us fine lookin' boys around to keep yer eyes full," Racetrack said as he patted my arm. <P>"Oh yeah, like I could be impressed with any of you after seeing you all dirty and gross and picking your noses and hearing your burping and-" <P>"Awright! We gets da point!" And then they were all gone, rushing off to claim their usual territory and sell their papes. I slowly walked to my corner, feeling like an outcast and not sure what to do about it. <P>Chapter Two <P>My corner was fairly slow, as usual. I sold about fifteen papes by lunchtime. I was just about to take a break to go to the restaurant down the street for some penny bread when a woman behind me asked, "Do you have change for a nickel?" <P>"Sure," I said, and turned around to find myself eye to eye with my mother. Her mouth dropped and her chin quivered and she said, <P>"Chloe? My God, Chloe!" Not knowing what else to do, and scared out of my mind, I turned and ran. As I ran I heard her yelling, "Please come home! COME HOME!" I knew I would never go back. I ran and ran and ran, not noticing the papers I dropped or the people I was knocking into. I ran until my legs were numb and my chest burned, and suddenly I stopped running. I stood where I was, looking around and realizing I had no idea where that might be. It was a part of Manhattan I'd never seen before. I rested my hands on my knees and tried to catch my breath. Just then, someone put a hand on my arm. I jumped a mile, and that someone said, <P>"Cheez, Killer. Calm down, its just me!" I turned around. <P>"Oh, hey, Skittery," I tried to say, but I could hardly breathe. <P>"Man, what the hell happened? Yer corner's gotta be miles from here! You run all the way? What the hell happened? Here, come along, " he said as he took my arm and steered me into a nearby restaurant. He ordered two sodas, and as we waited I recovered from my marathon run. Finally, after I had swallowed half my soda, Skittery tried again. <P>"Now you gonna tell me what the hell happened?" he asked. I nodded and began, "I saw my-" I stopped, remembering that I had never told any of the newsies anything about my past. They assumed I was an orphan or a runaway, and they knew not to ask. I looked up at Skittery and saw concern in his brown eyes. He was such a nice guy, he had always been friendly- more so than a lot of the other newsies. He was one of the original group who fought to let me stay in the lodging house. I decided to tell him. "I saw my mother. She wants me to come home, so I ran. I'd never go back there, never." <P>"Why'd ya run away in the foyst place?" He asked. <P>"I didn't. I was kicked out. You see, I had a good life, a real nice one. I went to school everyday, and came home to a nice house with nice things and always a hot meal on the table. Then, three years ago, my father walked out on me and my mother. He said he was going west, to California, to live out his dream. So my mother and I moved into a small apartment, and she got a job as a cleaning woman at an office building and I quit school to work in a factory, counting pencils. <P>We barely made enough to survive, and sometimes we would go days without eating. My mother and I were constantly fighting. She told me that she only had me to keep my father, and if she had known it would only last 13 years, she never would've had me. She always complained about me being just 'a mouth to feed', even though I brought home almost half our total income. Then one day, when I got home from work (I worked during the day and mother worked at night), she was waiting for me, furious. She started screaming at me, because she couldn't find her paycheck and she thought I stole it. I swore I hadn't taken it, but she yelled, 'Get out. Get out of my house and don't you ever dare come back.' I was scared, and I asked her where I could go. She said, 'I don't know. You can whore yourself on the street for all I care.' I grabbed my things and left. <P>I remembered the rally against 'The World' I had attended the month before, and I remembered a friend at the factory talking about her cousin in Brooklyn dating a girl newsie. I decided to try my luck at the lodging house. I figured 'What s the worst that could happen?'" I stopped there, and stared at the table, tracing a pattern on my placemat. Skittery picked up the story. <P>"I remember when you gots here. We was all noyvous cuz we'd never seen a goyl newsie, but Jack said he'd hoyd of dem in Brooklyn from Spot. Jack said Spot said dey was good newsies, an' nice people. So Jack says 'Lets give her a chance, boys. Don't sound like she's got anywhere else to go. An' we've all been der before.' So some of the boys was still noyvous, but we beat dem 'till they woyn't noyvous any more. And you was in!" I tried to give him a smile, to let him know how appreciative I was, but I was too scared and too worried. He looked at me with concern again and said softly, "Dat's just awful, Killer. I always thought it was bad to be oyphaned like me, but to be rejected by yer own mother is definitely woyse. Are ya gonna be awright?" <P>"Yeah, I'll be okay. Except I dropped my papes when I was running. What a waste. Its too late to buy some more ." I sadly put the fifteen cents I had made on the table and closed my eyes. "I guess I'll go back to the lodging house. Thanks for the soda, Skittery." I started to stand up. <P>"Wait!" he called out after me. I turned around. "Dat ain't right. Here," and he handed me half his remaining papers. "You can stand out here wid me today, and tommorow I'll take yer spot, and you can have mine, in case yer mom comes back. How 'bout it?" <P>"Oh Skittery, you don't have to-" <P>"Naw, but I want to! Now come on, lets stop talkin' an' start sellin'!" <P>~~~~~~~~~~~ <P>I sold all of the papes Skittery gave me, and we joked around all day. When the sun started to sink and dusk settled across New York, we headed back to the lodging house to meet Racetrack, Blink, and Mush for dinner at Tibby's. I held about twenty cents in my hand, and as we got within sight of the lodging house and the newsies, I pushed all of it into Skittery's hand. He looked at me and stopped walking. <P>"No, Killer. You earned dis money. You keep it," he said forcefully and held out the coins. <P>"No. I don't accept charity. But I'd like to thank you for giving me something to do and someone to talk to after my scare. I don't know what I would've done if I had to come back here alone and moneyless. So thanks." Then I started walking quickly. Skittery hurried to catch up with me. <P>"You are one crazy goyl," he said with a grin. Just at that moment Racetrack caught sight of us. <P>"Cheez, where've you two been? We's plain starvin' here! Cheez." Skittery knocked his hat off. <P>"Aw, shut yer mouth, an' lets go." <P>~~~~~~~~~~~ <P>When we got to Tibby's, a popular newsie hang-out, we saw a bunch of newsies already filling the tables. I slid into a booth next to Skittery and across from Mush and Blink. Racetrack was over at the bar, trying to bum a cigar off of a waiter and talking about horses. We all ordered sodas, and as we waited we talked about the daily news. Skittery made no mention of my run in with my mother, and I silently thanked him for that. <br>Suddenly, the door to Tibby's slammed open and Jack confidently strode in. <P>"Heya, Cowboy," various newsies called to him. He greeted them with a broad smile, and tipped his trademark cowboy hat to a pretty waitress standing near the door. He came over to our table and pulled up a chair. He sat down in it, backwards, gave a loud sniff, ran his hands through his greasy hair, and leaned his elbows on the table. <P>"How's it goin', boys?" He asked. Then, looking at me, he added with a grin, "And goyl." Blink started telling a story about some boy getting beaten by gang members, and Jack listened attentively for awhile. Then his eyes sort of glazed over, and he started playing with the placemat. Blink stopped talking. <P>"You ain't heard a woyd I said, Cowboy. Whatsa matta? An' where's Sarah? Doncha got a dat wid her tonite?" Jack looked up at him. <P>"No, no. No date. I'm just preoccupied. Spot's comin' in ta town. Says he gots some matter ta discuss wid me. I don't got any idea what it could be about." <P>"Spot? We ain't seen him since the strike! When's he comin' in?" Mush asked, excited. <P>"Tonight. Late. Ya know Spot, he likes ta travel under the safety of darkness," Jack replied. I looked around at the boys at my table. They all looked happy to hear that Spot would be paying a visit. I was glad I'd finally get to meet him. Jack excused himself and went to talk to Racetrack, who had become sort of the second in command since David went back to school. Not that there was any sort of government amongst the newsies, but where Jack had been the sole leader before the strike, simply because he was popular, since then a sort of parliment had formed. Jack was the leader, Race was his second, and then the cabinet (or the advisors) were Mush, Kid Blink, Skittery, and Boots. It wasn't anything official- it was safer for adults to think that the newsies existed in a state of anarchy, but every newsie knew who to go to for help, and who to sacrifice all for in an emergency. <P>The boys at my table were telling tales about Spot- how brave he was, how tough he was, and how smart he was. <P>"So one of you will intoduce me? Right? I've heard so much about him, I just have to meet him." They looked at me, seemingly surprised that I'd want to meet Spot Conlon. <P>"Sure, sure. Of coyse! Spot likes goyl newsies. He'll like you," Blink told me. <P>I grinned. If Spot liked me so much, maybe I would accompany him back to Brooklyn. <P>That night was like a camp out in the lodging house. No one slept. Everyone sat awake in their beds, playing cards, telling stories, and waiting for Spot to show up. Jack and his cabinet (Race, Mush, Blink, Boots, and Skittery) had gone to meet Spot at a secret place. I sat across from Snoddy on his bed, playing poker with him, Bumlets, and Pie Eater. We were in the middle of a hand (which I was winning) when the door opened and the cabinet filed in, grinning. Following them was Jack, with his arm around a skinny boy. When the door closed the boy turned to the room full of newsies (which had grown very quiet), took his hat off his head, and said, blue eyes sparkling, <P>"Heya boys. How's it goin'?" There were laughs as the newsies got up to surround Spot, slapping his back and saying "Heya Spot!" "How's Brooklyn?" "Aw we missed ya Spot!" and other things. <P>I stayed where I was on Snoddy's bed and stared at the best looking newsie I had ever seen. He was short and skinny, but he had a commanding air about him. He had brown hair that hung in his eyes and beautiful blue eyes. He had brooding eyebrows, and noticable above all was an incredably cute crooked grin. He greeted each newsie personally with a slap on the back and a question ("How ya doin', Itey?" "How's the arm, Snipeshooter?"). Now I knew why everyone loved this guy. I stayed where I was and hoped someone would remember to introduce me. Someone did. <P>"Heya, Spot. We's just as modern as you Brooklyn newsies. We gots ourselves a goyl newsie. I want ya ta meet her." Skittery motioned for me to approach. The newsies who were crowded around Spot parted to let me through. <P>"Spot, dis is Killer. Killer, dis is the famous Spot Conlon." Spot took my hand, and looking deep in my eyes, kissed it. No one had ever kissed my hand before, and I blushed. <P>"Its a pleasure ta meet ya, Killer. That s a mighty tough name fer a goyl as pretty as you, " he said, flashing me that crooked smile. I smiled back, unable to speak. I was overcome. That had never happened to me before. "So, Skittery, does she speak?" <P>"Yeah Spot, usually. You know how goyl's git around ya." I was so embarrassed, and that got my speech back. <P>"I'm sorry. Its nice to meet you, too, Spot. I've heard so much about you. The newsies around here really idolize you." I said slyly. <P>"Yeah, well, at the risk of soundin' immodest, newsies everywhere idolize me. I woyked hard to git dat reputation. An' I woyk even harder ta keep it! Right boys?" All the newsies agreed loudly. "Well, I hate to end the festivities, but I'm wiped. I'd love to git some sleep. We can do our catchin' up tomorrow. Is dat okay wid everybody?" In response the crowd cleared and headed to their bunks, settling into their beds and turning off their lamps. I jumped up on my bed and watched as Spot and Jack were the only ones left on the floor. Spot was whispering in his ear, briefly. Then Jack said, "Well Spot, ya can have the bed under mine, if ya want." <P>"Hmmm. Well Jackie-boy, as temptin' as dat sounds, I've been in the habit of sleepin' under goyls. If dat's okay wid Killer, dat is." I was shocked, but I managed to smile and say, "Yeah, sure. That s okay." <P>Spot grinned at me and flopped down under my bed. As Jack climbed into his bunk and turned out the last light, Spot sat up and looked into my bed. <P>"Whadya say yer real name was?" He asked. <P>"Chloe," I whispered. <P>"Sweat dreams Chloe," he said softly and then slipped back into bed and fell asleep. I lay awake and listened to his breathing for awhile, and then I, too, fell asleep. I dreamt of him. <P>Chapter Three <P>When Kloppman gave the wake-up call I rolled over and tried to pretend it wasn't morning. Most of the newsies were already awake. I could hear them talking and moving about. Close to my ear I could here someone whistling. I opened my eyes and found myself looking at Spot Conlon. He was in the process of dressing, and he was shirtless. He wasn't as skinny as I thought he was. He saw me looking and he grinned. <P>"Good mornin'. How'd ya sleep, Killer?" I sat up and slid off my bunk to stand infront of him. <P>"Alright, I suppose. Never seems long enough, does it?" I answered, stretching my arms above my head. <P>"Oh, it all depends on how ya look at it. To me, time sleepin' is time wasted. Feelin' tired is like knowin' yer livin' right. At least, to me it is." I smiled at him and started gathering my washing stuff. "Where ya goin'?" He asked as I started to head upstairs. <P>"Oh, I'm not allowed in the boy's washroom. The one upstairs isn't used. I go up there," I told him. He looked incredulous, and walked over to Jack's bunk. <P>"Heya Cowboy. Wake up." He shook Jack. "Wake up Jackie-boy. I gotta ask ya a question." Jack rolled over and opened his eyes. He groaned. <P>"Man I'm glad I don't have ta wake up to yer ugly face every mornin'. Whadaya want?" Spot gave his face a few slaps until Jack sat up. <P>"Ya see, Killer here tells me you'se guys don't let her wash up wid ya. Why's dat? The goyl newsies in Brooklyn ain't treated so unfairly. It just ain't right Jackie-boy. It just ain't right! I think somethin' needs ta be done about dis little situation. Don't you?" Spot finished his speech with a smile. Jack tumbled out of bed and stepped so close to Spot that there noses were almost touching. <P>"Yeah, well, ya Brooklyn fellahs are a little more gutsy then us Manhattan fellahs. We'd feel a little weird about lettin' a goyl see us in our skivvies. Ya know? Goyls just ain't supposed to see dat? Ya know?" Spot cocked his head. <P>"I guess we Brooklyn boys just got bigger balls, huh?" <P>"Yeah, I guess so." With that Spot turned to me and smiled. <P>"Sorry Killer. I tried." <P>"Oh that's okay. I don't really want to see any of them less than clothed, anyways." <P>"Yeah well, I'd bet some a dem would like ta see you less den clothed." I laughed as he disappeared into the washroom and I headed up the stairs to my own personal bathroom. <P>When I came back downstairs, all the newsies had already gone to get their newspapers. I hurried to the gates in front of "The World" and bought what I could with the few pennies I had left from the disastrous day before. Then I sat down next to Racetrack and we perused the headlines together. After a few minutes I looked around and asked, "Um, Race? Where's Jack?" Racetrack laughed and took the cigar out of his mouth. <P>"Doncha mean where's Spot? Dat boy's taken a likin' to ya. Yer a lucky goyl. Dere's lotsa goyls in Brooklyn who'd kill ta land Spot Conlon. He nevah liked dem normal goyls (no offense, of course). Ya'd nevah see him wid a goyl, not until dey started bein' newsies. He likes dem goyl newsies. He likes dem in Brooklyn, an' he's taken quite a fancy ta you." I blushed and looked away. Yeah, it was true, and I loved it. He was such a nice looking guy! <P>"So... where is he?" I asked. <P>"He's wid Cowboy. Dey're talkin' about somethin' important. Ya can't bother dem," Skittery interrupted from a bench a few feet away from me and Racetrack. He had been listening to our conversation. I smiled at Skittery. He looked at his feet. "An' Spot asked me ta tell ya dat he wants ta meet ya fer lunch, at Tibby's, at noon." <P>"Thanks, Skittery. Um, is it still okay for us to switch selling corners? Just for a few days?" He looked at me, and he remembered our little secret, about my past. <P>"Yeah sure. Cheez I'm a sucker." <P>Chapter Four <P>I sold most of my few papes before noon, and headed anxiously to Tibby's. I was early, so I went inside to wait under the cool air of the ceiling fans. To my surprise, Jack and Spot were already there, sitting in a booth in the corner. Spot saw me come in, and he stood up and waved me over with a big smile. I slid into the booth next to Jack, but he quickly excused himself. <P>"Uh, I gotta pick up Sarah at school. Dat goyl insists I walk her everywhere. You two enjoy yer lunch, and I'll meet ya back here in an hour. We gots plenty more to discuss, okay Spot?" <P>"Sure, sure Jackie-boy. You'se been real nice about dis whole mess." Spot spit on his hand and the two shook before Jack hurried out. I sat in silence, facing Spot. He called the waiter over and ordered two sodas, and two plates of mashed potatoes. The steaming plates arrived and I was starving. I hadn't eaten well for days, and since I lost those papes, and therefore a lot of money, I knew it would take days before I got back on track. This would probably be the best meal I would get for awhile, but I tried to be feminine and eat slowly. Spot watched me eat for a minute, and finally broke the silence. <P>"You don't eat much. do ya?" He asked. I blushed. <P>"Well, the past few days have been weird. I... lost a stack of papes. You know how it is." He nodded and pushed his plate in front of me. "No, really, I'm fine. But that's really sweet of you." <P>We talked about a lot of things, but avoided anything involving either of our pasts. God knows how curious I was to hear how Spot became a newsie and reached such a high status as the most famous, feared, respected, and loved newsie. I could tell why from just talking to him. He had this aura around him that was scary. The way he carried himself made you respect and fear him, but he was one of the nicest guys I had ever met. And if any of the wild stories I had heard were even the slightest bit true, that would explain his fame. When we had finished eating and had sat and talked for quite awhile, I looked at the clock on the wall. It was already 12:45. <P>"I've got to go.... I have papes to sell," I told him sadly. <P>"Aw! Well, do ya think you have time to take a short little walk?" He asked, a gleam in his eye. I would make time. <P>We headed outside, and as we were standing in front of the alley next to Tibby's, he put his hand on my arm and we stepped into the shadows. He put one hand on my waist and the other tipped my head back, and I closed my eyes as we kissed. I don't know how long we had been lip-locked when I heard someone clear their throat. Spot and I quickly disentangled ourselves. Skittery was staring at us. <P>"Sorry to interrupt, but I thought ya'd wanna know, Killer. The bulls are out lookin' fer ya. Dey were all over yer corner, wid a picture of ya, askin' everybody if they'd seen ya. Dey were especially interested in me. So's I told dem dat you had found me yesterday cuz ya knew I was lookin' for a spot ta sell, an' ya told me you were goin' to the Bronx fer awhile, so's I could have yer corner. I hope dat's okay." <P>"Yeah. Thanks so much Skittery. I swear, you are a life saver!" I smiled at him. <P>"Yeah well, no problem. Be on the look out. Oh, and Spot, Jack is inside, waitin' fer ya. He says to hurry yerself up, he ain't waitin' just so's you can make out wid our goyl newsie." With that Skittery abruptly turned around and left. Spot kissed me one last time and hurried off, saying, <P>"I'll see ya tonight, Killer." <P>Chapter Five <P>I sold the rest of my papers and then hung around Skittery's corner, exploring this part of New York I wasn't familiar with. Finally, when the sun began to set, I headed back to the lodging house. I walked slowly and enjoyed the cool night air, and thought about Spot, and Brooklyn, and Spot in Brooklyn. By the time I was back within sight of the lodging house, I had decided it would be best to go with Spot when he went home. <P>The moment I stepped inside the door of the lodging house, Spot grabbed my shoulder and yanked me behind three of the bigger newsies. I was about to ask him what the hell he was doing, but he clamped his hand over my mouth and gave me a look to be silent. I was, and I heard men's voices. <P>"Have any of you seen this girl anywhere? It is believed that she has been selling newspapers on the corner of 8th and Green." There was silence. <P>"Yeah, yeah. We knows her! Remember fellahs?" It was Skittery. "She left yesterday fer the Bronx. She gave me her corner. Remember?" There was a murmur in the crowd. Then Crutchy spoke up. <P>"Oh yeah! I remember! She asked me if I knew anyone in the Bronx dat she could go to. I was real sorry I didn't." I peered over the shoulder of one of the big newsies who was shielding me. Three bulls were standing at the front desk. Pictures of me were strewn across the desk. Kloppman was holding one in his hands, studying it. <P>"Yeah yeah yeah. Now I remember. She left, just like the boys says. Now, officers, I don't think we can help ya anymore," he said slowly, and put my picture down. The bulls looked at each other as they gathered the photos. <P>"Well," one of them said, "Keep this," and he put one picture back on the desk, "and let us know if you hear from her or find out anything at all about her. Understood?" <P>"Oh yes officer!" Kloppman said, and the bulls turned to the door. Spot pushed me down and the three big newsies sort of surrounded me, so the bulls wouldn't see me on their way out. When they were gone, I slowly walked to the center of the room. <P>"I guess I have some explaining to do...." I trailed off, not wanting to explain anything. I suppose the newsies sensed that, because Spot suddenly put an arm around me and said, "You don't have to explain nothin'. Now lets all go git some dinner." <P>Spot and I slid into a booth in the back of Tibby's. He took my hands in his, looked deep into my eyes, and said, "Wanna talk?" <P>"No I don't." <P>"Hungry? I'll get ya some food." <P>"No. I couldn't eat a bite." I felt tears welling up. I hadn't cried since my mother kicked me out, and I really didn't want Spot to see me break down. So I wiped my nose with my napkin and tried to think about something-- anything else. But it was futile. So I looked up at Spot and said, "Spot, I'm going to Brooklyn with you." His jaw dropped, and he grabbed my wrist and pulled outside into the alley we had kissed in just nine hours earlier. He pushed me down onto a crate and sat next to me. Then he started talking. <P>"You are not going anywhere. You are staying right here. Now, dere are tree reasons you wanna go to Brooklyn. Lets get the stupid one outta the way. Yeah, I like you. I like you a lot. You are a really great goyl. You are so pretty, an' you ain't one of dem giggly, obnoxious, prissy goyls like the most of dem. I would love it if you were in Brooklyn, so's I could see ya all the time. But you ain't. An' I can't let ya make the mistake of goin' to Brooklyn just cuz I wanna be wid ya. Okay, secondly, you want ta escape yer past. Yer mother is lookin' fer ya. Now don't gimme dat look. I ain't got my reputation dat I got fer nothin'. I knows stuff. The bulls have done all's dey can. Stay away from the place where yer mother saw ya, an' you will be fine. Toyd, ya feel like an outcast. Ya think dat no one here really likes ya, dat dey's all uncomfortable around ya. Its true, some of dem are still a little noyvous about havin' a goyl around. But I gots ears; I hear the boys talkin'. Dey like ya. Dey think you are as neat as I think you are. An' lemme tell ya somethin'. Dere is a coyten newsie who needs ya more den I do. Do you get it? You are NOT goin' to Brooklyn wid me. You are stayin' here. You belong here, an' you will soon figure dat out, an' you will say 'Spot, you are the smartest boy I ever met'. Now, I'm leavin' tonight. I want you ta go wid us to the secret place where I meet up wid my Brooklyn boys. Now, you an' I are gonna walk right back in dere, an' we are gonna join some boys at a table, an' neither one of us is gonna mention you wantin' ta leave. Okay?" <P>I wiped my nose with the back of my hand and let it all sink in. How could he know about my mother? How could he know I felt like an outcast? What did he mean about a "certain newsie" needing me more than he did? I had so many questions, but I knew all I could do was nod okay and walk inside with him. So I did. <P>Chapter Six <P>I fell asleep the moment I got back to my bed in the lodging house. Sometime in the night, someone gently shook me awake. I opened my eyes, confused to see Blink standing by my bed in the darkness, holding a lit candle. He leaned close to my face and whispered, almost inaudibly, "Come on Killer, Spot wants ya to go wid us. He's goin' back ta Brooklyn. Get up, Killer." It clicked. I slid out of bed and pulled on my clothes and shoes. I put my hat on and Blink handed me a candle. The rest of the newsies were sleeping, but when Blink and I got outside, Jack, Mush, Racetrack, Boots, Skittery, and of course Spot were waiting. Spot put his arm around me as we began walking in silence. He leaned in for a kiss and whispered into my ear, "Are you okay?" I nodded and kissed him again. <P>It seemed like we walked all night, but it was still dark and there were no signs of the sun rising when we finally stopped. We were in front of a huge abandoned warehouse in a really strange part of town. We went in through a broken window, and found four big, scary newsies from Brooklyn waiting. Spot let go of me to say good-bye to all of us, individually. I sat on a broken crate and strained to hear what Spot was saying. He stood close to Boots, and talked so softly I couldn't make it out. Then he and Boots spit-shook, and Spot talked to Skittery, Mush, and Blink. When he got to Racetrack, I was close enough to hear. <P>"Well a, Race. Its been good ta see ya again. You take care, awright? Don't blow all yer money on the damn horses." Racetrack grinned and lit a cigar. <P>"Yeah yeah. I hear ya. Look out fer yourself." They spit-shook and Spot approached Jack slowly. I could hear them, too. <P>"Jackie-boy, I gotta say I owe ya one. I really appreciate yer help in dis little situation. Yer a pal. You's gotta nice bunch a newsies here. You remember dat. An' do me one more favor, huh?" <P>"What s dat Spot?" <P>"Look afta Killer for me. Make sure she's safe an' happy. Dat's a poysernal request from me to you. Awright?" <P>"Awright. You be careful." They spit-shook, then hugged fiercely. Then Spot turned to me. He leaned in close to my ear. <P>"Listen up Killer. You are a newsie, and you are lucky, because when all odders may abandon ya, the newsies will be here for ya. Dey have accepted you. Remember dat. An' I wasn't kiddin' about one of dem needin' ya. He does. If you don't believe me, try findin' dat picture the bulls left on Kloppman's desk. It ain't dere, cuz someone took it. I know who dat someone is, an' I ain't tellin', but you'll find out. I'll see ya soon. Maybe I'll send fer you to come visit me. Be careful, an' remember dat Spot Conlon loves ya. Not many people can claim dat." <P>With that he kissed me one last time, softly, and then turned to his newsies who were waiting. As he walked off, we Manhattan newsies watched in silence. Half of me wanted desperately to be going with him, the other half was curious about this mystery newsie who had stolen my picture. Just before he climbed through the warehouse window, Spot turned and flashed us that crooked smile, and Jack called out, <P>"Yeah, go back to Brooklyn!" <P>Life returned to normal, or at least as normal as life can be for a newsie. Every night I slept in my bunk with no one below me, every morning I climbed upstairs to use my private washroom, every morning I bought whatever papes I could, and every day I stood on Skittery's corner and tried to bring the world the daily news. Things were just as they were before, and I still usually felt like the outcast. Except that every evening when I returned to the lodging house, Jack would take a minute before he ran out to meet Sarah to sit down next to me and ask me how I was doing. <P>Apparently the bulls had pretty much given up on me, but Skittery said my mother came by my old corner almost every day. Racetrack, Mush, and Blink kept track of the bulls for me, and sometimes at dinner Mush would slide into the booth next to me and say, "My friend in the Bronx says the bulls are combin' the entire place, lookin' fer ya." Or, "My friend in the Bronx says the bulls ain't been around fer awhile, I think its all clear." It was nice to know that they cared, and I tried to thank them, but I didn't know how. And all the time I thought about Spot. Well, I tried to figure out how Spot found out about my past. The only thing I could come up with was Skittery. So one day, about a week later, I approached him as he was about to climb into bed. <P>"Heya Killer," he said as he pulled his dirty shirt off over his head and began untying his shoes. <P>"Uh, Skittery, can I talk to you? For just a minute? In private?" He looked up at me, surprised. <P>"Well, sure. Let's go outside." He quickly tied his shoes and I followed him down the stairs, past the clusters of boys playing cards and smoking cigars, past Kloppman who was just now reading the daily newspaper, and out into the cool night air. We sat on the stoop under the warm glow of the street lamp. I stared at the street and our shadows while I tried to figure out how to ask if he had told my secret. This may not seem like such a big thing, but to newsies, honor and trust were the most important qualities and to question these was to question one's worth. <P>"What s up?" He finally asked. I tore myself away from the dancing shadows and tried to look at him. I couldn't do it. His big brown eyes were full of worry. <P>"Is something wrong? Are you in trouble?" How could I do this? How could I ask? <P>"Skittery, how did Spot find out about my mother?" I finally just spit it out. He looked confused. <P>"Why are you askin' me.... Oh. Ya think I told him. Am I the only one ya told?" <P>"Yes." He looked so sad. Suddenly I regretted accusing him of anything. "Its not that I don't trust you! Its just... how did he find out? The only thing I could think of was...." Skittery stood up. I looked up at him. Half his face was shrouded by darkness, but I could still see the hurt. He crossed his arms across his bare chest and leaned against the lamp pole. <P>"Well, I don't know how he found out. He's Spot Conlon fer cryin' out loud. He knows everything! He has friends everywhere. It probably won't change yer mind, but fer what its woyth, I didn't tell him nuthin'. I didn't tell anyone! An' I swear dat to ya on my life." He was telling the truth. I could tell by the look on his face and the tone of his voice. I stood up and pleaded, "I am so sorry, Skittery. I believe you. Your right, he is Spot Conlon. He can find out anything he wants to find out. I never should've suspected you. You wouldn't do something like that. Damnit, I messed up big time. You helped me out when I was in trouble, you took my corner and let me have yours, you've always been so nice to me-- nicer than most everyone else. Are you mad at me?" <P>"No," he said, after a pause. Then he hooked his arm around my neck and dragged me inside, saying, "But I probably should be. I just want you to think you can trust me." <P>"I do," I said softly. <P>Chapter Seven <P>Meanwhile, back at the House of Refuge.... <P>I was playing poker, and had been for two hours, when a big, red-headed boy approached. <P>"Heya. The goyl's got a visitor." I looked at the closed door, confused, and then at Snoddy. He laughed. <P>"No, at the window. I told ya dey's know you was missin'!" I followed the red-headed boy around the corner to the window, where Blink and Skittery were waiting. Blink flashed me his trademark huge grin, his one blue eye sparkling under his floppy blonde hair. <P>"See, Skittery, I told ya she ain't on no date!" Skittery knocked his hat off before he spoke to me. <P>"What the hell happened, Killer?" He asked. I shrugged. <P>"Someone followed me back from the corner tonight, tackled me--" <P>"Are you hoyt?" Skittery interrupted. <P>"No, I'm okay. They took me here. I don't know why. They won't tell me anything. But I think they're going to move me somewhere else. I'm pretty worried." Blink and Skittery were thoughtful. Then Skittery said, "Get dat red-headed boy over here. We'll tell him to look out fer ya, make sure no one messes wid ya." I was getting sick of having the newsies think I needed a guardian. <P>"Well, thanks, but its not necessary. Snoddy's here, and we've been playing cards. No one is messing with me," I told them. <P>"Whadda we gonna do, Skittery?" Blink asked. Skittery thought for a minute. <P>"I'm gonna go get Spot." <P>"Aw man! Brooklyn is such a long walk!" Blink whined. <P>"Well, I never said ya had ta go wid me," Skittery told him. <P>"Well I am! Ya wanna at least wait till its light...?" <P>"No. We go tonight." <P>Chapter Eight <P>The walk to Brooklyn was long and it was already late, but Skittery and Blink set out with a purpose. To find Spot. <P>"Why can't we just get Jack? He'll know what ta do and the ballet ain't as far as Brooklyn? Cheez!" Blink whined. Skittery stopped in his tracks and grabbed Blink by the shirt. He put his nose right up to Blink's face and whispered, "Because Spot knows everything. Spot will know why she's in dere. Spot will know how to get her out. Jack don't know shit compared ta Spot. An' ya know how Spot feels about her, he'll do whatever it takes. Do ya understand?" Blink nodded. <P>"So how s about you shut the hell up an' walk." Skittery let go of Blink and they walked in silence. <P>It seemed as if they had been walking forever when Skittery saw the Brooklyn Bridge looming in the distance. As they crossed, the boys took a moment to look over the edge, down into the dark, deep water. Skittery watched the fog rolling across the surface of the water and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. Looking into the depths really put things in perspective. He had to find Spot. <P>The two Manhattan newsies headed deep into Brooklyn. This usually would be a dangerous action, because Spot took security seriously, and his thugs didn't like to listen to explanations. But at this time of night, everyone was sleeping. At the steps of the Brooklyn Newsboys Lodging House, they stopped to wake up a little boy sleeping on the stoop. Blink recognized him as a betting pal of Racetrack's. <P>"Cigar! Wake up!" Blink nudged him with his shoe. The little boy rolled over. <P>"Cheez, is dat you, Blink?" He got up slowly. "Heya Blink! What the hell are ya doin' here, at dis time of night?" The two spit-shook. <P>"We's got a friend in trouble, an' we needs ta talk to Spot. Ya know where he is? Sleepin', I bet, like we should be." <P>"Naw, he ain't sleepin' much lately. He's at the pier. You can go see him, but I warn ya, he's got his goons wid him." <P>"Thanks a lot, Cigar." <P>"No problem. Tell Race I got a hot tip on a hoyse Saturday, an' I'll be in touch wid him." With that Cigar went back to sleep and Skittery and Blink headed to the pier where King Spot held court. Just as Cigar had warned, the two encountered a guard at the entrance to the docks. <P>"Manhattan newsies? Its a little late to be callin', doncha think?" The guard said, stepping in front of Blink to block their way. <P>"Its an emoygency. Tell Spot its about Killer," Blink said quickly. The guard looked suspicious, but he hurried off to find Spot. Skittery and Blink sat on a bench and waited. A few minutes later, the guard was back. <P>"He says I bring you to him." They followed the guard down the peir to a place where Spot sat, in position to see everything during the day. Now, at night, he had a great view of the stars. He jumped down and spit-shook with both Blink and Skittery. <P>"What s goin' on? What s wrong wid Killer?" He asked nervously. Blink quickly explained what had happened. Spot looked distressed. "Awright. I gots my connections. You two stay here an' sleep, an' I'll go find out what s goin' on. It might take awhile, but I'll find out. An' den I'll come back an' let ya know." Spot turned and hurried off, and Blink and Skittery laid down on the pier and tried to sleep. <P>When Spot got back and shook the boys awake, it was already light. Spot climbed up to his throne and took his hat off. Skittery noticed how tired he looked. He had dark circles and was so pale. <P>"Awright. Listen up, here's what s goin' on. Thanks to a nice lie," he looked at Skittery, "the bulls have been scourin' the Bronx, lookin' fer Killer. Just to be safe, I sent a couple boys dat way last week ta spread some rumors, ta tell the bulls dey's seen her. Ya understand, her mother wants her back. She set all dis in motion." <P>"Her mother? I thought she was an oyphan!" Blink interupted. <P>"She's not. Her mother kicked her out. She don't like talkin' about it," Skittery told him. <P>"You knew?" Spot asked incredulously. <P>"Yeah, I knew." <P>"Well, anyways. Meanwhile, her mother hired a private investigata ta look fer clues in Manhattan. Dat's who apprehended her last night. Dey took her to the House of Refuge cuz it just so happens dat yesterday her mother went to the Bronx ta look fer her herself. Dey got in contact wid her last night, an' as far as I know, her mother has already collected her child and Killer's back home." <P>"Wow," Skittery breathed. "You have some power. You can find out anything!" Then he added, sarcastically, "Now all's we needs is her address. Think ya can get dat fer us, Spot?" Spot handed Skittery a crumpled up piece of paper. <P>"I wish I could go wid ya, but I got some major things ta take care of here," he said sadly. Skittery and Blink spit-shook with him again. <P>"We'll take care of it," Blink assured him. Spot grabbed both newsies by their arms, and with eyes flashing he whispered, "Please, please do. Trust me, she does not want to be where she is now." <P>Skittery nodded and they left, on a mission to rescue me from my mother. <P>Chapter Nine <P>I stared out my bedroom window, looking at the street below. She had come in the middle of the night. I was sleeping in Snoddy's bed-- he had graciously taken the floor because there weren't enough beds and some of the boys were all too willing to share with me-- when they came in and shook me awake. She was there, looking happy and worried, but I knew it was all fake. I resisted, and made alot of noise, so everyone woke up. They fought for me, the boys in the House of Refuge. Snoddy and some of his friends tried to attack the guards who were trying to carry me off. But the guards had clubs, and they beat off the boys like they were pesky mesquitoes. The last thing I saw as I was being dragged out was Snoddy lying in a pool of blood. <P>I cried for hours. Actually, I hadn't stopped yet. They brought me home, to my mother's apartment, and locked me in my bedroom. The only thing my mother had said to me was, "I'm so glad you're back. Everything will be just like it was before you ran away." I didn't run away. She kicked me out. That's what I was thinking about as I stared at the street three stories below. I watched a pretzel cart as I wondered what would become of me. Would I go back to school? That was a pleasant thought, but an unrealistic one. My mother would need me to make money, so I would have to go back to the factory. And I wasn't stupid, I knew things would go back to just the way they were, fighting non-stop with my mother and being miserable. As much as I felt like an outcast with the newsies, I was happier there than I would ever be at home. The newsies were a better family than I ever had. <P>The pretzel cart turned a corner and disappeared. I watched it go sadly. Now the street was empty, and I had nothing to watch. I looked at the corner, trying to will the pretzel cart to return. I realized how pathetic I was and wiped my nose with the back of my hand. Just then, there was some commotion. Two figures rounded the corner where the pretzels had gone and began running towards my apartment building. At first I couldn't tell who they were, but pretty soon it was obvious. I would recognize the bright smile and eye-patch of Blink anywhere. <P>Skittery was with him. I saw them looking at a piece of paper and then at the address on the front of my building. I opened my window, about to yell to them, but stopped myself, knowing my mother was just on the other side of the door. I had to somehow stop them from going inside the building, because my mother would probably have them arrested. So I looked around my room and grabbed the first thing I saw, a book of Shakespear's sonnets. I hurled it out the window, trying to get it to land next to the boys. Instead, it hit Skittery in the head. <P>"Ow!" I heard him cry. He and Blink looked up and saw me. They grinned, and were about to yell up to me, but I put my finger to my lips and tried to let them know they had to be quiet. They seemed to understand. I leaned out the window and mouthed, "My mother will hear you." <P>They nodded. Skittery mouthed back, "Are you okay?" I nodded. <P>"Are you hurt?" I didn't catch that, so Blink slapped Skittery, hard. "Ow! What the hell--" Blink shushed him, and looked up at me, and mouthed it again. <P>"Are you hurt?" I understood, and shook my head. Now, slowly, Skittery asked me something else. He had to use hand motions to get me to understand. <P>"Do you want to leave? Do you want us to get you out?" I looked into my room, at the locked door. Unfortunately, there was no fire escape by window, only blank wall thirty feet down. <P>"I'm locked in," I mouthed. Blink and Skittery talked to each other for a few minutes, and then abruptly turned and ran off. I was left staring at the empty street once again. The pretzel cart returned. I was in shock. Had I imagined the rescue attempt? They were there one minute and then gone. I had finally convinced myself it was all my imagination when they returned. This time Blink had a coil of rope around his neck. Skittery looked up at me and gave me a warm smile. Then they disappeared again, into the building. What were they going to do? Break in and tie my mother up? It wasn't long before I found out that wasn't what they had in mind. I was sitting on my bed, waiting, when Skittery came crashing through my window. He had a rope tied around his chest. I ran to him and helped him untie the rope. <P>"Are you awright?" He whispered, looking into my eyes. I nodded. He grabbed the rope and quickly wrapped it around my waist. "We're gettin' ya out of here. Ya think you can climb a little? Blink will hoist ya up." I nodded again. He helped me over to the window and I climbed out. I saw Blink on top of the roof, with the other end of the rope tied around his waist. I grabbed whatever I could and helped Blink as he pulled me up. Once I was on the roof with Blink we untied the rope and quickly sent it back down to Skittery, who was still in my room. Blink struggled, and I watched anxiously as Skittery finally reached the top. As he untied the rope Blink hugged me. <P>"How ya doin'?" He asked me. <P>"I'm okay. I'm better now. I cannot express how glad I am you guys saved me. I really owe you one. Thank you." Blink grinned. <P>"Aw, you don't owe us shit. We was told it'd be our heads if we let anything happen to ya!" He replied. Skittery added, "Yeah, Spot says he's real sorry he couldn't poysonally save ya. Hope we're a sufficient replacement." I ruffled his hair. <P>"You guys are better." They smiled and blushed. Then I put one arm around each guy and we headed back to the Lodging House. <P>Chapter Ten <P>"Heya Cowboy! Look who we found!" Blink cried as we walked through the door of the lodging house. It was empty (it was morning, and everyone was out selling their papes). To my surprise, Jack was sitting on a chair by Kloppman's desk. "Oh my God. I've been outta my mind crazy! You guys don't bodder comin' back last night. I hear from some little fellah dat two of my newsies was in Brooklyn at a crazy hour last night. So's at least I knows you ain't dead. What the hell were ya doin' in Brooklyn? Cheez, all ya had ta do was break her outta the House of Refuge. You's done dat a million times! I ain't slept, I've been so worried. An' to top it all off, I been hearin' rumors about a riot on the foyst floor, where Snoddy is! How ya doin', Killer? Enjoy yer brush wid the law?" Jack ranted. Finally he shut up and leaned back, looking at me. Skittery spoke up first. <P>"Well, fer starters, she was on the foyst floor. Ya know, wid the riot. In fact, she caused the riot. Her mother--" <P>"Her what?!" Jack interrupted. <P>"Ya hoyd me. Her mother came ta get her last night an' Snoddy an' some of the odders tried ta stop dem. Anyways, we went ta Brooklyn ta ask Spot fer advice cuz we couldn't break her outa the foyst floor. Bars on the windows... ya know. We figured Spot would know what was goin' on, cuz Killer didn't. By the time we got back dis mornin', she was already at her house. So we had to perform an air rescue! But we're all okay." <P>"I had no idea...." Jack breathed. Then he stood up and hugged me. "Now lets all get some sleep. I think we all desoyve a day off." With that he began to head upstairs. I started to follow, Blink did as well, but Skittery stayed where he was. <P>"Come on Skittery. You'se gotta be as tired as I am, an' I'm about ta faint!" Blink called from the landing. <P>"Yeah, come on. Ya don't need ta sell today. I'll buy ya dinner, if dat's what yer worried about," Jack told him as he continued upstairs. Skittery stayed where he was. <P>"Naw, I'm okay. I'm not gonna sell. I'm goin' to Brooklyn, ta let Spot know what happened. I needs ta talk to him," Skittery said softly. I looked down at him. He looked so tired. Blink looked at me, and I saw that he was concerned for his friend. Jack, however, was already in bed, sound asleep. <P>"Awright, do what ya gotta do, man. But, cheez, be careful! Brooklyn's just as dangerous durin' the day as at night. I wish ya wasn't goin' alone, but dere's no way I'd make it dere an' back. I'd die from lack of sleep." <P>"Dat's okay, Blink. I'll be fine. Ya know I can handle it. I'll be back before dark." Skittery headed out the door. As it shut, I suddenly felt incredibly guilty, as if it was my fault Skittery was doing something he shouldn't. I ran down the stairs and out the door, with Blink yelling after me, <P>"What the hell are ya doin'?! Come back here, Killer!" <P> <BR> <P><center> <A href="outcast2.html">Read on</A> <P><A HREF="storieso.html">Back to stories</A> <BR><A HREF="home.html">Home</A></CENTER> </BODY> </HTML>