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Description
Chapter 20: Meanwhile

Spits paced in front of the door for the fifth time nervously. Mumbling under his breath, he cursed Dodge for sending him to the Bronx newsies alone. So what if Brooklyn had a girl? Who cared? It didn't change the fact that Spot Conlon was the most feared newsie in all of New York.

"Damnit," Spits murmured, rubbing his hands together against the cold. "Just get it done wit!"

With that he stopped his pacing and fixed his hat. With a firm nod he skipped up the the steps of the lodging house and pounded on the door. Had he known someone had been watching him through the peep hole he wouoldnt have knocked so enthuisiatically.

"Hey, hey, hey now," a large, burly teenager warned as he pulled the door open. "No need to get rough wit da door."

Spit stepped down one step. This guy was beyond intimidating. There was a scar going across his lips that made his amused smile look crooked. He wore his hat low over his eyes, casting his face into shadow. He stood with his legs shoulder width apart and his muscled arms folded across his chest. He meant business.

"I-…" Spits faltered. "I-I need ta talk ta Fin," he stammered, trying to puff out his chest. The burly newsie chuckled and nodded his head.

"Yous wait hea," he said before closing the door once agains. Spits let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding and fanned himself with his hat. This was a hard life.

Within a few minutes the door opened again, this time revealing a tall black boy in a red flannel shirt and brown hat. He nodded to Spits before motioning to the street below. Soits complied and jumped down the steps to the curb. The other boy took his time in walking there and when he stood beside Spits he simply crossed his arms and glanced at the sky.

"Yous got somethin yous wanna toik ta me about?" he asked, voice deep and grating. Spits nodded quickly, wringing his hat between his hands.

"Yeah, yeah Is do-"

"Well den spit it out, Spits," the leader of the Bronx newsies hissed. Spits quivered before nodding again.

"My man Dodger was up in Brooklyn da udda day."

"And?"

"Dere was dis goil dere."

"There're goils everywhere," Fin growled, growing impatient. Spits held his hands up in innocence.

"Yeah, yeah b-but dis one was dressed as a newsie." This caught Fins attention. He turned fully to Spits before lowering himself to the curb and nodding for Spits to do the same. Spits sat down, grateful for a chance to speak seriously.

"She was dressed as a newsie ad taggin with Spot Conlon-"

"The Spot Conlon?" Fin asked skeptically.

"One in da same," Spits said nodding, "her let 'er stand by him when deys was discussin turf beefs and then she stuck it ta Dodge." Fin raised a surprised eyebrow but Spits just kept nodding, begging truthfulness for every word he spat. "Told 'im ta beat it."

Fin turned away from Spits now and frowned at the street. After a moment of tense silence he pulled out a cigar and lit it up. Spits watched on enviously. Lord knew he couldn't afford a cigar these days. Fin blew a puff of smoke into the air before turning back to Spits, cigar in hand.

"Dis goil," he inquired, "she ain't from Brookyn?"

"Nah she neva been dere befoa. We's been goin down dere almost e'ry month and she aint neva been dere."

Fin nodded, taking another drag of his cigar. "And Spot got her workin for him?"

"Well we's don't know yets. She seems like his right hand man –er goil."

Again Fin nodded. Again he puffed on his cigar. Spits waited in anticipation as the tall boy seemed to frown at the world, deep in thought. And what a thought it was. His lips curled as he remembered the lithe girl that had hustled his and three of his boys out of a months earnings. They'd beat her fair and square in a poker game and she'd skipped out on them.

A few days later they'd seen that girl. She was hustling some hoity toity guy out of his pape money and when she's caught site of them she booked it. But anyone born and raised on the street knows there's no way to out run a group of newsies. They surrounded her and Fin had even had her by the ankles at one point. But just like with the money she owed them, she managed to wriggle away and they hadnt seen her since.

it was no big secret who this girl was though. Skip O'Neil from Manhattan. Little brat sister of the cripple. She'd hustled smarted boys than Fin in her day and always managed to stay just ahead of the bulls. But she'd screwed up with Fin and his boys. She hadn't skipped town and they'd caught up with her, knew her face, knew her brother. It was only a matter of time before they found er and everyone got what they deserved.

They'd blown into the Manhattan lodging house not long after Skip's disappearing act. Bruizer and Saul had torn the place apart while Fin calmly explained to a seething Jack Kelly that they'd been ripped off by an aquintance of his. The crip had been brought forward, legs dragging uselessing behind him, but he played unawares. They all did. No one of them seemed to know where the shoeless girl had gotten off to. The day had obviously not been one of Fin's favorites.

But now it was all coming together. It couldn't be just coincidence that this girl showed up in Brooklyn right after Skip disappeared. She was hiding out as a newsie. Practically under everyones nose. Fin smirked, mentally tipping his hat to her cleverness. Finally he replaced the cigar in his mouth and hopped to his feet. Spits scrambled after him and stepped back as he flexed his arms.

"Is wanna see dis Brooklyn goil," he said confidently. He had an idea of who it could be. Turning to the smaller boy, he jabbed his finger in his chest. "Yous is gonna show ha ta me."

Outwardly Spits nodded, but inwardly he groaned. Why did he get all the hard jobs?

Description
Chapter 20: Meanwhile

Spits paced in front of the door for the fifth time nervously. Mumbling under his breath, he cursed Dodge for sending him to the Bronx newsies alone. So what if Brooklyn had a girl? Who cared? It didn't change the fact that Spot Conlon was the most feared newsie in all of New York.

"Damnit," Spits murmured, rubbing his hands together against the cold. "Just get it done wit!"

With that he stopped his pacing and fixed his hat. With a firm nod he skipped up the the steps of the lodging house and pounded on the door. Had he known someone had been watching him through the peep hole he wouoldnt have knocked so enthuisiatically.

"Hey, hey, hey now," a large, burly teenager warned as he pulled the door open. "No need to get rough wit da door."

Spit stepped down one step. This guy was beyond intimidating. There was a scar going across his lips that made his amused smile look crooked. He wore his hat low over his eyes, casting his face into shadow. He stood with his legs shoulder width apart and his muscled arms folded across his chest. He meant business.

"I-…" Spits faltered. "I-I need ta talk ta Fin," he stammered, trying to puff out his chest. The burly newsie chuckled and nodded his head.

"Yous wait hea," he said before closing the door once agains. Spits let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding and fanned himself with his hat. This was a hard life.

Within a few minutes the door opened again, this time revealing a tall black boy in a red flannel shirt and brown hat. He nodded to Spits before motioning to the street below. Soits complied and jumped down the steps to the curb. The other boy took his time in walking there and when he stood beside Spits he simply crossed his arms and glanced at the sky.

"Yous got somethin yous wanna toik ta me about?" he asked, voice deep and grating. Spits nodded quickly, wringing his hat between his hands.

"Yeah, yeah Is do-"

"Well den spit it out, Spits," the leader of the Bronx newsies hissed. Spits quivered before nodding again.

"My man Dodger was up in Brooklyn da udda day."

"And?"

"Dere was dis goil dere."

"There're goils everywhere," Fin growled, growing impatient. Spits held his hands up in innocence.

"Yeah, yeah b-but dis one was dressed as a newsie." This caught Fins attention. He turned fully to Spits before lowering himself to the curb and nodding for Spits to do the same. Spits sat down, grateful for a chance to speak seriously.

"She was dressed as a newsie ad taggin with Spot Conlon-"

"The Spot Conlon?" Fin asked skeptically.

"One in da same," Spits said nodding, "her let 'er stand by him when deys was discussin turf beefs and then she stuck it ta Dodge." Fin raised a surprised eyebrow but Spits just kept nodding, begging truthfulness for every word he spat. "Told 'im ta beat it."

Fin turned away from Spits now and frowned at the street. After a moment of tense silence he pulled out a cigar and lit it up. Spits watched on enviously. Lord knew he couldn't afford a cigar these days. Fin blew a puff of smoke into the air before turning back to Spits, cigar in hand.

"Dis goil," he inquired, "she ain't from Brookyn?"

"Nah she neva been dere befoa. We's been goin down dere almost e'ry month and she aint neva been dere."

Fin nodded, taking another drag of his cigar. "And Spot got her workin for him?"

"Well we's don't know yets. She seems like his right hand man –er goil."

Again Fin nodded. Again he puffed on his cigar. Spits waited in anticipation as the tall boy seemed to frown at the world, deep in thought. And what a thought it was. His lips curled as he remembered the lithe girl that had hustled his and three of his boys out of a months earnings. They'd beat her fair and square in a poker game and she'd skipped out on them.

A few days later they'd seen that girl. She was hustling some hoity toity guy out of his pape money and when she's caught site of them she booked it. But anyone born and raised on the street knows there's no way to out run a group of newsies. They surrounded her and Fin had even had her by the ankles at one point. But just like with the money she owed them, she managed to wriggle away and they hadnt seen her since.

it was no big secret who this girl was though. Skip O'Neil from Manhattan. Little brat sister of the cripple. She'd hustled smarted boys than Fin in her day and always managed to stay just ahead of the bulls. But she'd screwed up with Fin and his boys. She hadn't skipped town and they'd caught up with her, knew her face, knew her brother. It was only a matter of time before they found er and everyone got what they deserved.

They'd blown into the Manhattan lodging house not long after Skip's disappearing act. Bruizer and Saul had torn the place apart while Fin calmly explained to a seething Jack Kelly that they'd been ripped off by an aquintance of his. The crip had been brought forward, legs dragging uselessing behind him, but he played unawares. They all did. No one of them seemed to know where the shoeless girl had gotten off to. The day had obviously not been one of Fin's favorites.

But now it was all coming together. It couldn't be just coincidence that this girl showed up in Brooklyn right after Skip disappeared. She was hiding out as a newsie. Practically under everyones nose. Fin smirked, mentally tipping his hat to her cleverness. Finally he replaced the cigar in his mouth and hopped to his feet. Spits scrambled after him and stepped back as he flexed his arms.

"Is wanna see dis Brooklyn goil," he said confidently. He had an idea of who it could be. Turning to the smaller boy, he jabbed his finger in his chest. "Yous is gonna show ha ta me."

Outwardly Spits nodded, but inwardly he groaned. Why did he get all the hard jobs?