"Why can't you girls wear dresses? When I was your age I always wore a dress. You would never see a girl in a pair of men's pants."

My aunt was complaining again. We had explained to her a million times that long skirts just weren't practical when you worked in a factory all day. My cousin Amy rolled her eyes at me and we giggled and ran out the door of the tiny apartment I shared with my aunt, uncle, and Amy into the cool, early morning air.

It was 6:30. The sun had just come up and the feeling of a fresh day was all around. The shops lining the streets were just opening, and as we passed the Newsboys lodging house, the newsies were leaving to pick up their papes. Passing the lodging house at this time was a daily ritual, because Amy had to look for Spot Conlon. She never saw him, but then it was rare that anyone did, or at least anyone who would know. All the teen-age girls in Brooklyn knew. He was the most eligable bachelor- to have Spot Conlon was the highest a girl could acheive. No one ever did.

Amy, like all the other Brooklyn girls, talked about Spot non-stop.She told the stories about the brave things he had done, especially the story of that infamous newsie strike a year ago, in which Spot played a large part. Spot was respected and feared all over New York City, but then I wasn't from New York City. I didn't idolize him like the others, and quite frankly I suspected the stories were made up or greatly exagerated. I was from New Jersey. I lived on a farm in the beautiful country of New Jersey with my mother and father until things got rough and they sent me to live with my aunt and uncle. They said I could get a job with Amy, and live in Brooklyn just until the farm got back running and they could afford to continue my education. It wouldn't be long, they said. I had been living with Amy's family for a month now.

So anyways, we were passing the Newsboys lodging house, and Amy was looking all around for Spot, and not seeing him. But a great many newsies were approaching us, trying to sell us a pape and making rude comments. I knew there was penny in my left pocket, as well as one in Amy's, for the sole purpose of buying a paper. But Amy and I made it a habit to save our penny for the cutest newsie we saw. And none who were approaching were very cute. So we saved our pennies.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Work at the factory was boring and tedious, and lunch break was no relief, because Amy and I had different breaks, so I had to go to lunch all alone. I took a basket of books I had been binding to finish folding the fresh papers as I ate alone. On that day, I decided to go to a different diner, to take another route. I was fascinated by the people walking everywhere. And everywhere the sound of newsies carrying the banner could be heard. As I approached one corner, my eyes locked with a pair of blue ones. It was a newsie. He grinned at me and tipped his hat. "Pape, ma'am?" Just then I remembered the penny. I nodded and handed him the pocket fresh coin. He gave me my newspaper and thanked me. I walked on, and a few blocks later I had already forgotten him. I passed another pair of blue eyes, these were watery and bloodshot. The dirty boy belonging to them bowed as I passed. As I walked on I began to feel as if I was being followed. I spun around to confront whoever it was, and just then the watery-eyed boy and another one, big and scary looking, pushed me into the alley.

"Hey cutie," the first one said. "Pretty girls shouldn't walk alone."

"Lemme go," I commanded. Instead he slapped me. It stung and I fell back, shocked. I wasn't a wimp, I could take him out, but the other one was huge, and he was advancing towards me. Just then I heard a voice.

"Whats going on, boys?" From behind the big one stepped the newsie I had bought the paper from. Both of my attackers turned. I was afraid for the newsie, but to my surprise, the watery-eyed boy grabbed the big one and they both took off running, looking scared to death. The newsie offered me his hand to help me up.

"You okay?" He asked. I nodded and turned to pick up my basket of books. When I turned back to thank my newsie, he was gone. It had only been a second. I ran to the street, but he had totally disappeared. My lunch break was over, and I hurried back to the factory, passing the newsie's corner, but he wasn't there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I passed that corner at every opportunity for the next few days, but I never saw that newsie. I looked for him in the morning when Amy and I passed the Newsboy's lodging house, but I was as unsucessful as Amy's quest to find Spot Conlon. Finally, I gave up, and put it behind me.

One night, about a week later, I was asked to stay late to finish boxing up a shipment of books, for extra pay. I agreed, and didn't leave to walk home until almost 8:00. I knew that dinner would be over at home, because I told Amy not to wait for me, I would eat on my way back. So I stopped at resteraunt, Berry's, around the corner from the factory. I sat down at a table and waited for the waiter. As I sat I picked up a conversation from across the room. One of the voices was adult, the other slightly familiar.

"Come on! You know I'm trustworthy! You know I'll pay when I can!" I looked over towards the voice. It was my newsie! He was arguing with the waiter. "I'm so hungry, man! You know I could go steal something, but I'm trying to straighten out."

"You? Straighten out? Yeah right. You know I would feed you if I could, I always have. But we have new managment, and I'd get fired in a second if I gave someone food for free." Apparently the waiter and my newsie were friends. "I have a family to look after, I can't go risking my job for some street rat."

"Yeah I got it. But I ain't no street rat. Well, can I just sit here for a while and rest? Get some water, maybe?" The waiter nodded and walked over to my table.

"What can I get you?" I pulled ten cents from my pocket and thought about the growling in my stomach.

"Just water. But take this ten cents and give that boy whatever it will buy." The waiter looked a little surprised, but took the money.

"Okay, I know just what he likes. Can I tell him who his benefactor is?" I nodded. A few minutes later I saw the waiter carry a plate piled with steaming mashed potatoes, bright orange carrots, and hunks of buttered bread over to the newsie. I watched the expression of confusion on the newsie's face, and I watched the waiter point to me. I locked eyes with the newsie, but I looked away, at my table, as I flushed. Was it a stupid thing to do? I hadn't meant to give charity. Just then someone sat down across from me. I looked up into the blue eyes of my newsie.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," I replied meekly. I felt like I needed to explain. "I never got to thank you." Suddenly a thought crossed my mind. Did he even remember me? Oh no!

"Well, I appreciate this, and I am so hungry. But I won't eat this unless you share it wid me." As he said this he pushed the plate into the center of the table. I looked at the bread and smelled the mashed potatoes, and my empty stomach begged me to eat. So I smiled, and picked up a fork. He smiled back.

"I'm Chloe," I said.

"I'm Max."

We shared that plate of food and talked, and when I got up to go home he said, "Its so dark. You shouldn't walk home alone. I'll walk you." So he walked me home. We walked slowly and talked, discovering we had alot in common. I really like his company; he made me laugh. When we got to the doorway to my apartment building, I pointed out the window to my room, he thanked me for dinner and I thanked him for saving me. We heard a noise from above, the sound of a window being opened, and I turned to look up. Just someone getting some fresh air. I went to smile at Max, and realized he was gone. Once again, in the space of two seconds he had completely disappeared. He wasn't on the street in either direction. I had no idea where he was. I sadly went inside and fell asleep before Amy could grill me on where I was for so long.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day I paused for an extra long time outside the Newsboy's lodging house, trying desperatly to find Max. Amy didn't mind. She felt super assertive that day, and when a newsie approached, she bravely asked if Spot was around. The newsie laughed.

"Sweetheart, even if he was around, and he ain't, you wouldn't see him. He don't like bein seen." I wanted to ask about Max, but I kept quiet. That night I managed to stall Amy as late as I could at the factory, then I made up some excuse to go into Berry's as we passed. I looked around for Max, but he wasn't there. I saw the waiter from the day before and asked him if Max had been in. "Who?" He asked angrily as he rushed around, table to table. I left, upset and disappointed. Amy was enthralled.

"MAX?! Who's Max?" I related the entire story, begrudgingly, and she squealed. "It's soooo romantic!" I explained that it wasn't romantic (yet), and tried to avoid further questioning.

That night, I lay awake in my bed, thinking about stuff. Max, New Jersey, the factory, my parents. I had just closed my eyes and was beginning to doze off when I heard a tapping on the glass. I got up and looked out onto the fire escape. Max was standing there, grinning broadly.

"Whats up?" He asked softly.

"I'm sleeping, or I should be. What are you doing here?"

"Can you talk? Meet me on the roof." With that he was gone, bounding up the fire escape. Against my better judgement I joined him, and we talked all night. Sometimes we talked about serious stuff, like how tough it was to be a newsie, and sometimes we joked around. I told him about passing the Newsboy's lodging house every morning and not seeing him. He told me he was there, always there. I asked him to prove it, and he grinned. As the sun began to show itself on the horizon I stood up.

"I have to go. My family will be up soon."

"Yeah, me too," he said. As I walked away he called after me. "Hey! Um, Chloe?"

I turned. He looked like he was going to say something sappy.

"Uh, I've never really known a girl before... y'know, talked to one...." This was it! He was going to tell me he liked me. "Well, I never thought girls were good for anything except, you know, doing it. But you're different. You're like one of the newsies. I can talk to you. You're a girl but you're not like a girl. That's cool." Then he jumped down the fire escape and disappeared, obviously embarassed. That was not what I had wanted to hear. Not like a girl?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning as Amy looked for Spot, a newsie with the reddest hair I had ever seen approached me, looking unsure.

"Chloe?" he asked. I nodded, and looked around for Max, who I was sure was behind this. Alas, he was not in sight. The red-haired newsie handed me a dirty, crumpled up piece of paper and hurried off. I unfolded it slowly and read, in labored handwriting:

I TOLD YOU I WAS HERE
HAVE A NICE DAY AT WORK
I HAD FUN LAST NITE
I LIKE YOUR BLUE SHIRT

So he could see me, where ever he was. I looked around again, but by then Amy was bored and disappointed and we walked to the factory.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After that note, Max virtually diappeared from my life. Weeks passed and I looked for him everywhere. There had been a few days of horrible rain, so all of the newsies stayed in. But as soon as the sun came out the newsies did, too. So where was Max? I even stopped newsies on the street to ask if they knew a guy named Max. None did. Finally, after what seemed like forever, I had to see him. So I did something brave. I went to the Newsboy's lodging house.

I walked up to the front desk, which was empty. But there were multitudes of Newsies crowded around, sitting on chairs, laying on the worn carpet, and leaning against the stairs. The moment I set foot inside, every single one stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at me. I could hear the worn down heels of my old shoes pad across the floor, and I felt a flush rise to my face. To have dozens of boys staring at you is a rather scary experience.

Whoever ran the lodging house must have noticed the sudden silence, because a door behind the desk opened and a shriveled old man shuffled out. His jaw dropped a mile before he finally broke the silence.

"Girls can't be in here. You's gotta leave."

"No, please, sir. I'm looking for my friend. I'm worried about him," I begged.

"His name is Max." Suddenly all the boys began talking at once.

"Max? I don't know no Max!" "Who's she said?" "Max? That ain't a name in these parts." "She musta meant Tex. We's got a Tex." "Or Tracks."

"No!" I cried. "Not Tex! Not Tracks! MAX. His name is Max. He lives here." The old man stared at me, right in the eyes, and shrugged.

"I know every boy here, and your Max ain't one of them." Just then, I saw a figure slinking in the shadows. I looked over, and saw a boy who had been shooting marbles trying to sneak upstairs unnoticed. I closed my eyes and tried to focus, tried to reason with myself why Max was missing and no one knew him. A moment later, the newsie who had gone upstairs was back, and standing infront of me. I recognized him as the same who had delivered Max's note to me that day weeks ago. He looked unsure of himself and stared at his feet.

"Uh.... Come with me." I followed him out of the Newsboy's lodging house, and three blocks away. To my horror he had led me straight to the hospital.

"Oh no! Whats wrong with Max? Is he okay? My God!" I ran inside to the front desk, where I realized I couldn't ask for Max's room number because I didn't know his last name. But the red-haired newsie was still standing behind me, and he led me upstairs to a room at the end of a dark hall. He entered first.

"Uh... Max? It's me, Firey. I uh... brought you a visitor. Its a girl. She came around looking for you." I waited outside the door, trembling. I heard Max's voice, weak and unsteady.

"Is it Chloe? Oh no. Well, where is she?" At that I walked through the door, and almost fainted when I saw how bad Max looked. He was pale and thin and had an almost ghost-like grey tint around him. I nervously approached his bedside.

"Hey there," I said. "I was worried. I hadn't seen you in a long time. Wanna tell me what happened?" He looked embarassed.

"Its really dumb. Y'know how it rained all bad? Well I fell asleep on a bench in the park one afternoon, and when I woke up it was late and cold and raining. I walked home. I guess I'm not as strong as I thought I was, cuz I got... ah whatchacallit?" The red haired newsie piped up.

"Pneumonia."

"Yeah, that. I've been in this crappy hospital ever since, cuz my boys won't break me out. The've gone mutinous on me, they have!"

"Aw, you know that ain't true! You just needs your rest. You'll be out soon. Doc said a few more days, then you'll be out on the streets again." Then the red-haired newsie excused himself and left. I sat down next to Max's bed.

"So really, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I guess. I'm kinda weak, can't walk real good. But Doc says I'll get a full recovery. So now I just lay here, biding my time, and doing alot of thinking."

"About what?"

"Y'know, just stuff. Dumb stuff. Like why fishes can't breathe air and people can't breathe water. Stuff I know, like how much I am losing a week by not selling. And I read the pape. Every day." After he finished speaking he groaned in pain.

"Should I get someone?" I asked, beginning to panic.

"No, I'm fine. Maybe you should leave." I was surprised, but I did as he asked and left with a pat on his arm and well wishes. As I walked out the door he called to me.

"Hey Chloe? When I'm out of here, I'll drop by. I promise."

~~~~~~~~~~

He was true to his word. Four days later Max dropped by my window, just as he had the first time. And just like the first time I crawled out on to the roof as my family slept. We talked about our dreams. I told him about my parents' farm in New Jersey, and my favorite sheep, and my best friend. I told him that one day soon my parents would send for me, and I would leave my tedious job at the factory and go home. My dream was to go home. He told me his dream was to escape the streets and the harsh life of a newsie. He didn't care how.

"So you'd settle down? Get a real job, nine to five, sitting behind a desk? Just to escape the streets?" I asked.

"Sometimes I think I'd be better off dead than a newsie," he replied. I asked him how his parents died, and he told me. "My dad was scum, just like most of the dads of the newsies. He hit me alot, an' he worked the shit outa me, day in and day out. My mother was a spineless piece, she never spoke up for nuthin'. She knew me dad was cheatin' on her, and she did nuthin'. She knew he was a lousy drunk, and she did nuthin'. I hated them. I wanted out so bad. I woulda run away, I would be a newsie even if it didn't happen. But it did, so now I don't ever have to worry about my parents sendin' the bulls after me. They were at a party. My dad drank too much (as usual), and was playing cute with another woman. My mother was furious, and they must've fought something horrible on the ride home, because the bulls found their carraige at the bottom of a ravine the next morning. No one ever came to get me, because it turns out my parents never admitted my existance. My mother had me at home, and nevertook me to no doctor or anything. I wasn't, y'know, resgistred or nuthin'. So I just left. I kinda had to, I had no where else to go than out. So I went out on the streets. And I had to work, so I became a newsie. They's like a family to me, the one I never really had. That was six years ago. And that's my story."

I smiled as I listened, but inside I felt a tinge of guilt, because I had a relatively normal life and Max's was so bad.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One night Amy and some her friends asked me to attend a working children's rally. I wanted to go desperately, but I decided to stay home and wait for Max. He never showed up, and I regretted waiting, because Amy came home full of excitement. She had seen Spot Conlon. He was the leader of the rally. She had once gotten close enough to almost touch him, and she could barely keep from screaming, or crying, or both, she was so excited. I patiently listened to how he told everyone to be brave, how he could get the crowd of hundreds going with a just a few words, how smart and funny he was, and how his hair glistened under the theater lights. I asked her if she had seen or heard someone talking to or about Max. She shrugged and said she really hadn't paid attention to anything or anyone but Spot. I really wished I had gone to the rally.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Max's late night visits became more frequent, and we got along really well. He could make me laugh with just the slightest thing- a twitch of an eyebrow or that silly smirk he sometimes got. And I think he liked me because I was the most stable thing in his life. I was never starving or sick or missing. When he was with me he never had to worry about the bulls or being called "street trash". Ocassionally I saw him after work, but only when I was alone, walking home after putting in extra hours. Then I'd treat him to dinner, and he'd accompany me to the door of my apartment. Then he'd slip into the shadows and disappear. I often asked him how he did it- completely vanish, that is. He would just flash me his trademark smirk and shrug.

"Comes with bein' a newsie, I guess. I was always good at disapperin'. It got me where I am today." Then I would laugh and ask,

"Well, then, where are you?" He would only respond with a laugh and then we'd change the subject.

I adored him. I wasn't sure, however, if I was in love with him, or just loved him. He had made it clear early on that he had no intrest in me. I suppose that old saying to be friends first doesn't always work. Apparently he regareded me as nothing more than a friend, like one of the guys as he often put it (to my dismay, of course). But I learned to cope, and I just took pleasure in his company, as friends.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One day it happened. It had been almost a year since my arrival in Brooklyn, and I had rarely heard from my parents in New Jersey. Then, one morning a letter arrived, detailing a deal my father had made with some man; they were to be partners on the farm. My father would handle the actual farming, while this man would be the business partner. The money this man invested had really boosted my parents financially, and they could now afford to send for me. They instructed me to take a train back to New Jersey nine days after they mailed the letter.

They would be have a carriage waiting for me at the station. I was thrilled, but there was something eating at my insides, something unresolved. The day I recieved the letter just happened to be the wedding of a friend of my aunt's. She, my uncle, and Amy were going to the wedding, a quarter day's ride from Brooklyn. I wasn't invited. They left early in the morning and said they'd be home that night. So I went to work as usual, and as usual when I was alone, Max found me and walked me home. It was raining awfully hard, so I invited him in.

It was the first time he had ever been in through the front door of the apartment. We went into the room I shared with Amy, and sat on the floor so as not to get the furniture wet. I looked at him, and marveled at the way his hair clung to his forehead, concealing part of his smoldering blue eyes. I watched, half entranced, as a drop of water from his sopping wet hair rolled across the bridge of his perfect nose and dripped off the end, onto the floor. He reached his hand up to wipe some of the water off of his face, and his dirty palm left a trail of soot from one cheek to his forehead. I realized how ridiculous I looked, staring as I was, so I looked away. At the desk. Where the letter from my parents lay.

"I have to tell you something," I said. "I got a letter from my parents today. They found a business partner.... He's invested alot...." I trailed off, looking at him. He was quiet for a moment.

"Well, thats great!" He finally said. "When do you leave?"

"Nine days. On the 6:30 PM train." Just at that moment, I heard the front door open and close, and the excited voice of Amy floated through the air. "You'd better go," I told him. My aunt and uncle would not understand me having a boy in the house while they were away.

"Yeah," he said, and began to climb out the window.

"I will see you before then... right?" I asked.

"Of course," he replied, and he was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~

He lied. Nine days passed and I did not see him again. I lay awake every night, hoping to hear the familiar tapping on the window, but Max did not come. I stayed after every day at the factory, hoping Max would be around to walk me home, but he was not around. I even tried going to the Newsboy's lodging house again, but still no one knew of a newsie named Max, even the red-haired boy who once led me to Max's hospital room. I was frustrated, disappointed, and heartbroken.

It was 5:30 PM. All my bags were packed, and I held my pre-purchased train ticket in my hand. I had given notice at the factory and had not gone to work that day, but Amy had, and I was waiting for her to get home to accompany me to the train yards. I had already said my good-byes to my aunt and uncle, and I stood in my room for the last time and looked about. As I was absorbed in letting the finality of everything sink in, I didn't even notice Max as he entered my room through the window, which was open for fresh air. It wasn't until he cleared his throat that I knew he was there. I turned around, startled, and when it registered that it was Max, I threw my arms around him and hugged him viciously.

"Where the hell have you been?" I asked softly.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I've been doing alot of thinking. Alot. And I came to a revalation. I don't want you to leave. Right now you are all I have that is solid. I'd taken for granted that you would always be here, to talk to me, to make me laugh. But now I have to face the fact that in a few hours you will be gone, in a new life. Well, your old life. But a life thats doesn't include me, and thats what I hate about it. So I'm really sorry I've acted like such a scabber, and I owe you better- hell, you deserve better. But damnit, I'm telling you now before its too late and I can never tell you. I love you." Then he stopped abruptly. I stared into those blue eyes I loved so much and tried to understand. I was ecstatic. He loved me. I was devastated. I was going back to New Jersey. There was no mother and father in Brooklyn. There was no Max in New Jersey. I sat down on the bed to think.

"One thing I know," I began, "is that I love you. But that might be the worst possible thing." He sat down next to me, stiff and embarassed. Haltingly he put his hand ontop of mine.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done this. I'll leave, and we can forget it ever happened. Good luck. My greatest hope is that you will be happy." With that he stood up, and walked to the window. As he pulled himself out onto the fire escape, a realization ripped through my head.

"Wait. Happiness is you. In all my life I can not remember a time I've been happier than when I'm with you. I can't leave Brooklyn, I can't leave you. I just can't. I'll telegram my parents to let them know I will be staying for a little longer. They will be so diappointed." Max turned around and slowly walked back to the bed.

"Are... are you sure this is what you want? Your dream-"

"To hell with that. YOU are my dream." And then he leaned in close to me. He smelled unlike street trash. He smelled clean and his eyes shone. I closed mine, knowing that any second our lips would touch and I would experience fireworks like no other. But instead the door to the bedroom slammed open and someone screamed. Amy was home from the factory.

Max backed away quickly and headed for the window.

"No!" I cried. "Stay. Uh... Amy, this is Max." Amy was as pale as a ghost and trembling.

"No it is not," she whispered slowly.

"Well, yes it is, I think I would know." I looked at Max to roll my eyes about my crazy cousin, but stopped when I saw that he looked terrified, too. "What in the hell is going on?" I demanded.

"I don't know what you called him, but I sure as hell know who that is," Amy began, her voice rising in volume and pitch. "THAT IS SPOT CONLON!" I felt dizzy.

I quickly regained my composure and said softly,

"Ha ha Amy. Max, tell her your not Spot Conlon. THE Spot Conlon. She's mistaken you for someone else. Ha ha." But Max only looked at me, staring straight through me, into my soul. "Max?" I begged.

"I- I couldn't tell you right off. It was a pain, all these girls all the time. They only liked me because of my name. They didn't know me, and I didn't want them to. So I lied. No! I didn't lie, my name IS Max, my real name, my birth name. Spot is just a nickname. I wanted you to like me for me, not because of all the stigma around Spot Conlon. I'm sorry. I should've told you. But I started to like being called Max again, really like it. So I didn't want you to stop. Funny, ain't it? The supposedly bravest newsie in New York and he's afraid to tell a girl his name?" I continued to stare as he rambled. There was along silence, and then I spoke.

"Well, and to think I landed Spot Conlon."

THE END