Newsies Imagines

Out Of My League (Spot)

Spot Conlon is pacing back and forth, trying to pretend like he isn't completely bored out of his mind. It isn't as if he's suffering from a lack of things to do- he's been working since the day he was born, it feels like, and without him the entirety of the Brooklyn newsies would fall to pieces. He's got turf to defend, papes to sell, and dozens of newsboys to keep in order.

That being said, the afternoons seem to get later and later, and when all he's got scheduled for now is the same pape selling that he's been doing since forever, it's not hard to get bored. Right now, Spot's glancing around, trying to find some sort of distraction from the relentless monotony of having no available customers, and then he sees it. Or, more importantly, he sees her.

There's a girl coming out of a tailor's shop across the street, and she's easily the prettiest girl Spot has ever seen. He's had the privilege of being acquainted with a fair amount of the girls in this city, especially on this sort of the Brooklyn Bridge, but he's never even chanced an encounter with someone like her. She walks like she's never had to worry about having enough money to get by, like the city is a game and she's so far in the lead that she can't even look at anyone else.

Obviously, she's way out of Spot's league, but it's not like he's ever let that stop him before. So, before he can talk himself out of it, Spot watches her go, eyes tracking the way she carefully steps over the mismatched cobblestones, how the edges of her skirt ripple with her every movement. She glances over her shoulder once before she turns off of Spot's street, giving him the chance to see her face one last time.

He should have known then and there that this was a fool's errand, nothing more. If Spot was smart, he'd forget about this girl, never let her cross his mind more than this one time. Spot's a street rat, and proud of it, too. This girl's got money for days, and can probably afford to spend more on a new skirt than Spot makes in a month.

Still, he's not used to feeling like this, like he's more than just a pair of hired fists. Spot has spent a long time building up his reputation as the King of Brooklyn, the one boy everyone fears. That reputation comes with a thick skin, a fierceness, a temper that's quick to fire. The boy Spot lets people believe in wouldn't look twice at a rich girl like the one he just saw, not unless he saw some sort of angle.

However, the boy Spot can't seem to hide away is looking at her like she's a sparkling coin tossed from a banker, his next big shot at living. Even when Spot goes back to the Lodging House that night, she doesn't leave his mind. Spot knows that the chances of seeing her again are basically nothing, but that doesn't stop him from looking.

He doesn't see her, though. Not the next day, not the next, and as the days turn into weeks, Spot has to accept the truth that he's not going to run into the girl again. He can't decide whether that's for the best or not, but it's the facts, and Spot has always dealt in the cold, hard, realities of life as a boy fighting for a life on the streets of Brooklyn.

Just when Spot's giving up hope, he sets out on his daily routine to see a familiar face rounding the corner. Spot straightens up, watching the girl slowly walk towards him. At first, he thinks he's just making things up, but no, it's really her again. He almost can't believe it until she glances up and meets his gaze.

The girl seems surprised that he was already looking at her, but Spot can't seem to break her gaze. She walks the remaining few feet over to him and stands there, expecting.

Spot doesn't know what to do. He hadn't really anticipated seeing her again, and certainly not having to engage in conversation. Suddenly, he's all too aware of the patches in his dark trousers, the scruffiness of his hair, everything that clearly marks him as not coming from her circles.

"Uh, good morning. I'm Spot."

The girl arches an eyebrow. "I'm Y/N. Can I get a newspaper, please?"

Spot silently berates himself as he reaches in his bag for a pape. He legitimately forgot he was a newsie for a second there, lost in the half smile on the girl's face as she looks at him. He wants to snap himself out of the haze he's in, but as long as this girl is here, Spot doesn't think he'll have a chance of it.